


Set Me Free

by Shinocchi



Category: DRAMAtical Murder (Visual Novel), DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Mad Doctor, Alternate Universe - Warlock, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Body Modification, Body Worship, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 19:57:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12871887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shinocchi/pseuds/Shinocchi
Summary: A secret is hidden in the deepest part of the woods – a secret no one would ever want to know.Many would've perhaps heard about the massacre in the forest, and many would be able to connect it to the one insane man living right in that very forest but none would ever want to meet him ever.Except perhaps one man.[Mad Doctor & Warlock AU]





	1. Intimidation

**Author's Note:**

> This AU version of Aoba/Desire is perhaps one of my most favourite Aoba I've ever created and written. But this story alone is one that's very different, a genre that I don't usually attempt but once I do, I'm now rooted deep in it and it's now one of my favourite things to write. I particularly love Aoba's eccentric personalities in this universe, even more so for both Noiz and Aoba's dynamic. It's something I write out of my comfort zone, something I enjoy and I definitely hope you'll be able to enjoy this universe too, despite it being gory and bloody.
> 
> That said, **there are a lot of graphical violence and gore depictions** in this story so I'd suggest to proceed with care :') 
> 
> On a side note, I also have a whole main plot planned out for this story but also because I really love this universe and I always have endless filler ideas for them, there would be some chapters that are just... fillers, just to satiate that need to write more of their dynamics.
> 
> I forgot to mention that this Aoba was inspired by CHiRAL Night 10th Anniversary Aoba’s design :’D
> 
> I guess... that's about everything I have to say _(:3/L And lastly, as usual, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy this story as much as I enjoyed writing it /o/

_How does one make a human? Bones, fleshes, nerves? But that_ ' _s not being human, isn't it? That's just being a living corpse; just a vessel. So what makes humans_ _‘_ _humans'_   _, then? The brain, the heart, or the soul?_

_None of them? All of them?_

_Interesting. Very interesting._

_If the brain, the heart, or the soul are what makes the difference between a corpse and a living being, what makes the_ perfect _human being then? How does one define perfection? Does perfection even exist? What does it take to be a decent_ _‘_ _human_ _’_ _? What does it take to be_ different _from just the average human being? How long does it take for one to reach that level? Is a lifetime enough? Or does it require five? Ten? Or even a hundred?_

_Interesting. Very interesting._

_Humans are fascinating. Their fleshes, their bones, their skins; who should decide_ _–_ _or rather, who have the privileges to decide_ _–_ _how does each and every single human being look like? Humans weren_ _’_ _t given a choice, do they? They were born with what they have, and no matter how much they_ _’_ _d want to refashion their looks, they_ _’_ _d never be able to expunge what they were born with. But then again, how many humans would think of changing what they have, anyway? How many humans would_ desire _to change their appearances, to_ build _the perfect look for themselves? Would these thoughts every cross their minds?_

 _It_ _’_ _s no use, anyway. No matter how hard or how much humans are to do_ _–_ _it_ _’_ _s no use._

 _They_ _’_ _d never be able to escape the fate of aging, growing old, watch as their fleshes and bones and skins shrivel and perish. They_ _’_ _d never be able to witness or experience the pleasure of_ _owning a different body tha_ _t_ _’_ _s not what they_ _’_ _re born with._

_Humans are egotistical, so gluttonous, yet so fragile all at the same time._

_That_ _’_ _s why_ _…_ _humans are interesting._

“Right?”

The man hummed in a singsong manner, his voice light, vibrating through the scrapes of silent woods. His long, wavy hair swayed soothingly with the rhythm of wind, his long coat, peppered of funky colours, flounced the floor as he crouched, prodding at what seemed to be a dead crow.

A sigh. “Why did you try so hard, you poor thing? You’d die eventually anyway.”

His long, thin finger traced the contour of the crow’s corpse, mauling with the softness of its feathers, before the tip of his finger stopped at the beak of the dead.

“Poor thing, poor thing. Would you want another life, crow? Or do you prefer to stay dead just like this? Why are you dead anyway? Who harmed you?”

As is the crow was in any possible condition to answer his questions, the man solicited, all the while wearing a thin smirk on his lips. With half-dazed eyes, he licked the bottom of his lip before he filched a flicking lick on the top.

“Death, huh?” His voice, once again, rung of light ease. He raised his head up just a tad, the golden colour of his eyes, hidden under the shadow of his tall head, now all the more conspicuous with dark circles daubed under his eyes. “Death is good.”

With those final words, he stood, picking up his staff, one with a brain ornament bracing the top of a stupendously made brass-wooden material, then patted dust off his coat.

“It’s too bad I’ve had enough of the remnants of your body. If not, you’d make an impressive collection on my shelf,” he sniggered at the end of his words, as if laughing at the miserable fate of the dead animal. “May you have a good day.”

He bowed a little, then walked away, a swipe of his staff was all it took for him to cover the corpse with soil and dried leaves.

“Interesting, interesting.”

Seragaki Aoba slurred to himself as he took nimble steps across the forest grounds, the sound of rasping branches resonated under his feet, breaking the solitude in the misty forest. He hummed a light song with a voice that pulsated of nothing but of a carefree man, stress-free, as if nothing in the world concerned him at all.

He knew of no common sense, of no rules, of no norms of the world where humans reside. He held no affection towards humans, towards any sort of living beings at all. Yet, the very thought of feeling flesh on his skin, of witnessing the birth of near-perfection, and the way his heart would beat raucously in his ears when he saw the spark of hope, of _life_ , in something that was supposed to be lifeless, was something that had enthralled him into this questionable obsession of his. Only humans were able to give him such gratification – only humans knew of ways to allow him to build and rebuild.

Humans are interesting.

His footsteps stopped at the sound of commotion, a few feet away from where he was standing. He looked around, eyes narrowed through the cracks of thronged tree trunks. A small smirk lifted on the corners of his lips.

“Heh?” A word that was filched under his breath, that sounded daunting, truncated, chilly yet undeniably – _agitated_.

He continued walking again, still humming blithely, as casually as he could towards the source of upheaval. There’s no need to rush; humans are way too predictable, he could already tell what was happening just by the first insinuation of sound. While he strode, he stroked the top of his staff, squeezing erratically on the brain substances as small oozes of brain juices trickled through the rumples of its fragile flesh.

“Do you think they'll be smarter than you?” he whispered at the brain. “Ahhh… don’t worry. If they’re _really_ better than you, I could give you to the crow, you know? Reborn – isn’t that what you always wanted?”

He guffawed lowly. He could already feel his veins pumping at the very thought of what he was about to see in just another few steps away. Regardless of what it could be, it’s still _supplies_ to him and one could never use too much of materials.

“Get off the cart! Hand over your goods!”

“I don’t have anything with me!! I’m only passing by!”

From beneath the bushes where he’s hiding, Aoba propped against the tree trunk, keeping himself in the asylum of shadows with his arms crossed. He tapped his staff flippantly against the tree, eyes closed, as if foreseeing for something to happen.

“What kind of merchant brings nothing with them?! Don’t lie! Hand over everything you have with you!”

The man’s gravelly, gaudy voice rang in Aoba’s ears, pulling a frown in between his eyebrows. He rubbed a finger against his ear, shaking his head.

“How rude,” he said under his breath. “The first thing I’d do when I get hold of you later is to cut that hideous vocal cord off your throat… ah, perhaps then that crow can use it too.

“Who’s there?!”

While he spoke his thoughts out with no concern whatsoever, the man, along with two others, who looked like his minions, had looked around, trying to find the discomfiture they felt from their distraught surrounding.

“Oops.”

Stretching, Aoba stood out from the shadows, a face of dismissiveness.

“Oh man, I wanted to observe for a bit more but I guess I’ve had enough too.”

“Who are you?!” the man, one whom Aoba promptly recognized as the one with the gruff voice, raised a blade at his direction.

“So it’s you… Ugh, I thought perhaps you’d have at least a good look but… what am I even expecting anyway?”

“Who are you?!” the man repeated his question, inching close to Aoba with his blade held higher.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was so distracted by disappointment I forgot you’re talking to me. Hmm… Let’s see… What do you humans call a person who loves to dismember living things and mix-match them and—oh well, I guess this level of comprehension might be too radical for your brain’s intelligence level which… hmm, speaking of that, I should throw that away too later, but anyway—“

“ _Who the hell are you?!_ ” the man bellowed, finally losing his patience.

“My, my, such impatience. If you really want an answer, I guess you can say…” Aoba raised his staff, a dark smirk now braced his features. “…I’m just a passer-by.”

He barely needed to move an inch. Everything happened in a blink of an eye.

Ah yes. These horrifying looks, these accelerating heartbeats, these high-pitched screams; all of them were good. Very good.

Aoba took a long, deep breath as he lowered his staff, the bright light of where it was emanated from the tip of it gradually fading out of the scene. The tension from where he returned the assault earlier still had him breathing harder than he should, despite him not moving a single inch. Clutching his chest, he came down on one knee as he closed his eyes.

“Calm down,” he whispered ominously. “I can’t afford to lose you yet.”

He took another deep breath, feeling his heartbeats sluggishly returning to its normal rate before he opened his eyes again.

Three corpses lay around him, still warm, the living spoor in them leaving them bit by bit. Aoba licked his lips at the sight. As he looked around again, he noticed the merchant, whom the robbers had tried to raid from, staring at him with terror written all over his face.

“Y-You…” he stuttered, body trembling.

“Ah, my apologies,” Aoba said insouciantly. Standing up, he gave his staff a swift swing. “I totally forgot about you.”

“You don’t have to remember me!” the merchant shrieked. “Y-You’re the…”

“Hm?” Aoba narrowed his eyes. But before he could ask further, the merchant had pulled onto his horse, then galloping out of sight.

“Rude,” Aoba muffled. “Oh well, it’s not like I’m interested in him anyway.”

He returned his attention to the bodies on the floor, gaze reeling from the nearest body – the man whom had confronted him – to the other two.

“Let’s start with you first, shall we?”

He hummed, crouching by the man’s side as he pinched the man’s face up by the chin.

“Hmm, flesh texture is too rough, skin texture too disproportionate… Yuck, I don’t think I want anything from you. Too bad.”

He shoved the man’s face to the ground, standing up, then took leisure steps towards the next body.

“Heh… This man has a pretty good look,” he drew a grin. Slowly trailing his fingers around the man’s cheek, he came to a stop near the corner of the man’s eye. Observing sensibly with tilted head, he pushed jokily on the eyelid, revealing the man’s light-blue orb.

“Pretty,” he purred in satisfaction. “I could use this. The colour of the sky, sea…”

He frowned, as if reminded of something. Pulling his hand away, he looked away.

“Whatever,” he muttered to himself. In the next second, his expression has changed to one of joyful, acting as if he’d never seen the man he’d just touched, as he trod with little jumps towards the third and last man.

“How young,” he commented, the end tip of his staff nudging insolently against the man’s side profile. “You have such a long way more to go in life. It’s bad luck that you have to meet me while you’re halfway through searching for a purpose. Should I apologize? Should I not? Nah, it’s not like it matters anymore, does it?”

He cackled to himself before he crouched again, scrutinising the man’s face in close proximity.

“Soft, smooth…” he pondered out loud, fingers caressing the structure of the man’s face. Once done, he put his staff down, pushing the man so that he’s lied facing up, then took one of his arms up.

“I wonder if the bones are in good condition too?”

With one hand still holding onto the arm, he snooped another into his coat’s pocket, pulling out a small blade.

“Let’s see…”

He spoke as if he was speaking to himself, in a language no one dared to understand. He sneered as if he was enjoying the process of hounding, of devouring another human being, of dissecting them apart like it’s the most natural thing to do.

His fingers movements were smooth, his cutting skills as he cut the man’s skin open was one of an expert. His eyes vivified at the first sight of blood as a long breath was released off his chest. He breathed in, intoxicated by the smell of rust, a longing, gratified sigh fled his lips as he barred his mouth towards the fresh wound.

Eyes dazed at the view of blood-red, he swallowed down his throat before he grazed his tongue along the trailing red liquid.

“Hmmm…” he sighed contentedly. “Amazing.”

He licked his lips several times, trying to take in every drop of blood he could savour. And, at long last, he stopped, searching around in his pocket and retrieving a small bottle.

“Thank you for your blood,” he chuckled meekly. After giving the bottle a kiss, he pressed the tip of it against the wound and watched in glee as blood surged and filled up the entire of the bottle.

Once it’s done, Aoba took the bottle up, having the sun to reflect right through it.

“Beautiful,” was all he remarked before he kept it away.

He can’t wait to spend the rest of the night replicating the same type of blood.

Humming happily, he moved away from the disastrous scene, heading back into the depth of the woods, back to where he truly belonged.

He wasn’t expecting himself to find any other prey for the rest of the day. It’s going to be dark soon anyway; the sun was about to sink beyond the horizon. Even if all that he’d gotten for himself today was a bottle of blood, it should be able to last him for a few nights. It’s an unexpected hunt, to say the least. He thought he’d end up with the same ol’ materials again but it seemed like he has now salvaged a new form of substance which he could add into what he’s already been working on. He wondered what kind of reaction would he draw out from just one drop of this new mixture? He wondered if he would finally mix the right texture of skin he yearned so much for? And he wondered if this time, he would be able to get closer to giving birth to a completely new human being that he’d be completely satisfied with?

The more he thought about it, the more excited he became. His footsteps gained speed at the idea of possibilities, the crunching sound of leaves alongside the breeze by his ears were now become nothing but melodic orchestra.

But soon, this very orchestra decided to change its tune – the sound of air became sharper than it was supposed to be, the champing sound of withered leaves and branches from under his feet became non-existent. He stopped his steps, mildly annoyed by the unwanted disturbance.

Narrowing his eyes to observe his surrounding, he came to the realization that shadows around him had taken different positions than before, leaves were swirling, surrounding him in small tornadoes of circles, and the air had become heavier with every passing second, pressure crushing him from the inside out while he searched around.

Then, he saw it.

“A warlock, huh?” he smirked at the direction of one dark corner. “Aren’t warlocks all needlessly egoistical? Why are you hiding in the shadows, my child?”

He caught hint of a low-slung sound, something that sounded like a click of tongue. Whoever it was, it seemed to him that he was trying to put Aoba in a detrimental position before he would come out to face him for real. But Aoba’s patience was running thin; not because of the tricks that this very warlock was playing at him. Instead, he was more exasperated of the fact that this man was taking away his time for him to try out his new ingredient.

So, he wrought his staff into the mud of the forest ground, propped against it and released a loud yawn.

“Go on, go on. I have time to spend. I don’t mind sleeping out in the cold, you know? It’s not like I need warmth to begin with,” he said noisily, purposefully.

In the next second, the wind around him stopped gusting, the shadows returned to their original positions. And then, the man paced out of his hiding place, the first sight of his appearance immediately had Aoba quirking an interested eyebrow.

“Heh?” he muttered under his breath, his smirk deepened.

The man had strawberry-blond hair that reminded him of the colour of the sun, his lime-green eyes throbbed of abysmal intensity yet callous and emotionless all the same. He wore of no expression on his face, nothing of his body language suggested of any emotions.

Interesting.

“What matters do you have with me, young man?” he asked, pulling his staff out from the mud at the same time.

“You’re the insane man who stays in this forest?” The man’s voice was low, not as low as the one Aoba had heard earlier; it’s a pitch that Aoba preferred – just nice, just balanced enough.

“Insane man, how rude,” Aoba snorted. It’s not like he cared about whatever humans wanted to call him. But the mere implication behind such titles always amused him.

People are, after all, fearful of things that they could never understand. That’s why humans are fascinating – all that they needed was a nudge on their deepest fear and they’d spill everything by themselves, destructing themselves without the need for anyone to lay a finger on them.

Their reactions were interesting, even more so when they end up devastating themselves, completely destroyed by their own minds.

“So? You’re after this insane man, are you a justice warrior?” Aoba goaded, interested to draw more reaction out of the man.

“I’m not interested in anything anyone says about you,” the man snapped, still cold, still unmoved. “I want to know about you by myself.”

“For what purpose?” Aoba hooted.

“I saw what you did,” the main continued almost immediately.

“What I did… oh, right. I see. Sorry, I didn't know you were there. I could’ve asked you to join me.”

“In what? Those murders? Or helping you to check if you could pick up any valuable human parts?”

“Heh?” Aoba narrowed his eyes, obviously judging the new man. “You saw that too?”

“I saw everything.”

“Aren’t you afraid, then? I’m a murderer, and not only that, I collect human remnants.” He kneaded mellifluously on his pocket, where the small bottle of blood contained. “Aren’t you afraid of what I’d do to you?”

“Kill me? Tear me apart?”

“You’re interesting. Honestly, I wouldn’t have minded you as part of my collection,” Aoba nodded, hand supporting his chin.

“Why are you doing this?” the man persisted.

“Killing? Or collecting?”

“Both.”

“It’s my hobby,” Aoba sang. “Everyone needs a hobby, no?”

“This is not just a hobby,” the man countered.

Aoba raised an eyebrow at him then. This was the first time he’d come to meet someone who dared to provoke him in such an upfront manner. Truth be told, it’s easy to kill him now. But he’d yet to draw any sort of emotions out of him, he had no idea why this man was so transfixed at him either. There were too many erratic potentials in this man and above all, it’s no fun killing a person who looked so… dead from the inside.

“Listen, warlock—“

“Noiz.”

“What?”

“My name is Noiz,” the warlock – Noiz – repeated.

“Noiz, huh…” Aoba reiterated the man on his tongue for a few quiet times. “Should I tell you mine then?”

“I’m not interested. I just want to know—“

“Aoba.”

“…what?”

”My name is Aoba,” Aoba tittered cheerfully. “That’s the name that’s given to this body.”

“…What do you mean by… ‘this body’?”

“Do you _really_ want to know?” Aoba tested, walking closer and closer to Noiz at the same time. “Do you know, _Noiz_ , of the weight a human’s name? Just by knowing your name, I can do all sort of things to you.”

He came to a stop right in front of Noiz, his golden gaze glowering acutely into Noiz’s bright lime-green ones.

“Aren’t you afraid?” he puffed, cold breath hitting Noiz on the face.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Noiz affirmed. “If you really want to kill me, you would’ve done it already.”

“Wow, how courageous,” Aoba applauded. “Unfortunately, you shouldn’t be dealing with someone like me, _human_.”

“You don’t seem like someone who would say no to a valuable ingredient,” Noiz refuted. “There are many things I don’t want to deal with in this world and unfortunately, you’re not one of them.

“Did someone play a dare on you or something?” Aoba chortled. “Or do you intend to lure me into a trap, then catch me?”

“I won’t be able to do that,” Noiz admitted. “You’re clearly out of everyone’s hands. There’s no use trying.”

 _Interesting_ , Aoba thought. The more he tried to provoke this man, the smoother this man got out of his reach. It’s been awhile since he met someone like this; a decade, to be precise. Noiz was clearly hiding something; he’d made it clear to Aoba of how powerful his talent as a warlock was but beneath that cold expression hid something else that Aoba could not pinpoint. It wasn’t fear, wasn’t courage, wasn’t any emotions Aoba knew of.

“I have nothing to offer you,” Aoba said at long last. “But you… I’m interested in you.”

“My body?” Noiz asked?

“Everything of you,” Aoba answered, completely honest. “If you’re not afraid of me drugging you and keeping you captive in my horrendous body modification zone, you’re welcomed to follow me home.”

And Aoba meant it. He knew nothing of what Noiz was but like Noiz said, he wouldn’t say no to any promising body parts that he could use for his hobby. If Noiz proved to be just like any other person, then it didn’t matter anyway.

He wasn’t going to kill Noiz now, not yet. But if Noiz was to follow him…

A dark smirk was pulled on his face when he heard footsteps following him from behind.

Their journey back to Aoba’s home was one of silent and unsettling. Aoba hummed blithely to melodies he never knew the names of, all the while swinging his staff around his wrist as he took dainty, jittery footsteps. It’s as if the bloodbath from before was nothing but his daily routine, as if the man following him from behind was nothing but a shadow. He spoke of nothing, yet Aoba knew that his eyes were on him, observing every one of his action, so, once a while, he’d flicked a backward glance at Noiz’s direction, accompanies by a smirk, a sign of mocking him.

His house resided in the hidden area of the woods many wouldn’t dare to venture into without a trustable guide. It was misty where he lived, as if all life had been sucked out of that very zone, leaving behind a balmy spoor of rot and disguise. He stopped in front of his house, his small hums coming to an end, then finally turned around to face Noiz.

“Here we are,” he said elatedly. Noiz looked at where he was referring to. The house was nothing special, not oddly-shaped, just an unpretentious house one can easily find anywhere. Yet, as a warlock himself, one who’s more sensitive with the movement of air than anything else, he could clearly feel that something was… not quite right about this place. It wasn’t something his oversensitive instinct could describe either; as if the building existed in the wrong era, like something that didn’t belong to this world. Chills ran down his spine upon realizing that he might be setting foot into something that’s completely uncanny, completely out of this world, and completely unnatural. If he was to take the first step here…

…he might never be able to return to who he was again.

“What’s wrong? Are you scared?” Aoba gave him a sideway glance, body slouching just enough to look deep into Noiz’s eyes.

Noiz pulled a smirk, a change of expression Aoba first saw on him.

“What have you been expecting from someone who’d come this far for you?”

“Oh boy, you have no idea how far more you can go,” Aoba laughed sinisterly. “I like you.”

Leaving with Noiz those last few words, Aoba turned his back towards him and walked towards his house, with Noiz following closely on his heels.

The rush of a strong chemistry odour immediately attacked their nostrils the moment the door towards the house is opened. Aoba strolled in like it’s nothing at all while Noiz had one hand covering his nose, thin frown appeared in between his eyebrows as he stood at the door.

“C’mon in,” Aoba waved a hand. Placing his staff onto what seemed to be a custom-built shelf, he paced right to one corner of the place, where a counter can be seen. A few cauldrons propped on the counter. When Aoba took the lid off one of them, thick red smoke immediately filled the place, having Noiz to open the door behind him before he could choke on the unknown smoke.

“Ahh… I totally forgot to keep track on this one,” Aoba groaned with a shook of his head and a face of peeve. “Oh well, it’s not like the brain is any useful anyway.”

Carrying the pot with great difficulty as he mumbled words of grumbles, Aoba poured the liquid into a row of flower pots on his window sill, then returned with an empty pot, before he finally looked up at Noiz.

“Oh, I forgot you’re here too.”

“You asked me to come,” Noiz said, voice small but strong.

“Did I? Oh, I did,” Aoba nodded with eyes closed. “Why did I ask you to come again?”

“I should be asking you that question,” Noiz frowned. “Do you have anything that you’d want to show me?”

“Show you…? Hmm…” Aoba supported his chin with one hand, tipping his head to stare at the ceiling, thinking hard. “Ah, yes…”

As if reminded of something, his eyes lightened up, a smirk was drawn onto his face as he tramped towards Noiz. Creeping so close towards Noiz’s face, he raised a finger, fondling flirtatiously on Noiz’s chin before seizing onto it with one firm clutch.

“You’re a good material.”

Noiz swept Aoba’s hand off his face. Grimacing deeper than before, Noiz gripped onto Aoba’s arms with both hands instead, pushing him so hard his back hit against his cabinet of bottles as they tumbled, one by one, onto the floor.

“Aww man, now I gotta search for those all over again,” Aoba pouted.

“Don’t joke around with me,” Noiz spelled through gritted teeth.

“Hm?” Aoba smirked. He bolstered himself closer to Noiz’s face again, the same gesture as before, and, before Noiz could respond, he felt a wet sensation on his face, just to realize that Aoba was licking on what seemed to be blood on his cheek. “Hmmm… this fine quality of blood…”

Noiz hitched a breath. Belligerently pushing him away, he rubbed his face with the back of his hand, wiping away blood that was flowing from his new wound, a cut he’d gained from the shards of glass bottles he’d shattered earlier.

“Heh?” Aoba had hurried towards him then, totally unaffected by the violence he’d just applied on him. “Could it be that you… didn’t know you cut yourself?”

Noiz averted his gaze, but Aoba had clasped onto his wrist, forcing Noiz to look at him before he had both of his palms cupping onto Noiz’s face, a thumb destructively pressing on the wound on Noiz’s cheek.

Noiz didn’t flinch a bit.

“You can’t feel it,” Aoba grinned. “You can’t feel pain.”

Once again, Noiz strapped himself out of Aoba’s grip in such a forceful way both of them almost collapsed and fell to the ground but Aoba wasn’t at all bothered by it. Instead, he started laughing so hard he had to hold onto his stomach to contain himself.

“Hahaha! Interesting, interesting! A human being who can’t feel pain; the most fundamental sensation of being human, the most evident proof of being human. And _you can_ _’_ _t feel it_. Interesting, this is _so interesting_!”

At this point, Noiz was sure that Aoba was insulting him on purpose. Every word that he said, everything that he’d done was on a different league from Noiz’s common comprehension, yet every one of those gestures burnished him the wrong way. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t exploded at Aoba after having to endure all these unnecessary provocations.

“C’mon, don’t get all stiff like this. Isn’t it good? You’re here to know more about me, don’t you? And now, I acknowledge you as a quality material for my studies. Isn’t this a win-win situation for both of us? I won’t kill you yet, and you can stay around for as long as you like so that you can – your word – study me. In return, will you let me take samples from your body when I need them?”

“Samples…” Noiz repeated the word under his breath. “In case you haven’t realized this, I’m only one person; I only have a pair of limbs and one of everything else. How many times can I contribute to your needs?”

“Of course I’m aware, Mr.Warlock, sir,” Aoba pilfered a playful thumb on the corner of his lower lip. “I don’t mean taking your arm or your leg or your lungs or your—hmm, wait, that’s pretty interesting, actually. Your nerves might be the main reason to your lack of sensations and it could be connected to your brain and your brain might produce quality brain juices that can—“

“Oi.”

“Ah, sorry, sorry, I tend to get carried away. I can’t help it, you know? You’re a terribly, terribly _marvellous_ material.”

Noiz eyed him for a bit, obviously judging him, before he sighed rowdily.

“In return, you’ll tell me what you’re up to?”

“Like you see, I’m _studying_.”

“With human bodies? Do you kill everyone you meet in the forest? Then take their bodies? Keep them…?”

“Hmm, it depends.” Aoba wasn’t answering his question at all. “That aside, I’m more interested in you, warlock. Why are you willing to go to this extent, to seek out answers that may risk your life, to find _me_ , a being that’s feared by many, a being that possible… doesn’t belong in this world?”

Noiz had no answers to all of Aoba’s questions; it could be his longing to quench his curiosity, or it could possibly be the very fact that Aoba could be a whole new existence that was out of his own knowledge zone that was intriguing him.

“Or…” Aoba continued after a short-lived silent. “Are you trying to find the cure to recover your sensations? So that you could be human again?”

Aoba had sat on his couch when he said that, legs crossed, one hand propping his face as he ogled Noiz interestingly.

Noiz clicked his tongue. Pacing towards Aoba, he trapped Aoba on the couch by having both of his hands pressing against the resting arms of the couch.

“Enough about me,” he growled into Aoba’s grinning face. “I want to know more about _you_. All that you need to do now is to say yes to our agreement of me exchanging my body parts to your intention for your so-called _studies_.”

“I see…” Aoba nodded, as if he’d finally come to an acknowledgment. “Fair enough. Well then…”

Before Noiz could blink, Aoba draped his arms around his neck, pulling him over with one hard tug. Then, before Noiz could tell what was going on, Aoba’s lips were on his, forceful and vicious, as he forced him to open his mouth. The slick tongue he felt in his mouth in the next second, convoyed by a strong dizzy scent of sweetness, spread throughout his own tongue, clouding his vision. His knees went weak, he could feel his conscious at the verge of leaving him.

“Let’s have fun together then.”

From a far distance, he could hear Aoba’s voice, no less provocative, no less suspicious. But there’s nothing else he could do anymore as his conscious was cut off, forcing him to fall into the depth of darkness.

“That’s why they said… not to follow strangers home,” Aoba smirked into Noiz’s ears, hands supporting Noiz’s body as he patted on Noiz’s soft strands of hair. “I was serious about drugging you, you know? That’s the last contribution of the crow’s feather, oh, and some shavings off its beak. Great, great drugging materials, I guess. But too bad, that’s the last of those that I could get.”

He kissed Noiz on the temple, then licking him slowly on his earshell.

“Better make it worth it, will you?”

It was a whisper he knew Noiz would never be able to hear, but one that he knew was a powerful curse, forming a bond between himself and Noiz.

 

***

 

No one ever asked why he idolized beautiful things. He’d never spoken about it to anyone before either. But rumours, he’d heard plenty; all those screeches and clamours that were definitely _not_ pretty – all accused upon him. Since then, he’d learned to brew potions so that he could mute those words, and so that he could carry out his experiments in peace without needing to be distracted by noises that were disturbances to his brain radar.

Sometimes he wondered how such beautiful faces could radiate such horrid voices.

He clicked his tongue as he tossed one broken finger aside, slashing off a long list of items with words only he could understand. Failures. Failures, failures, failures. He’d savoured failures so many times that he was starting to wonder if it was worth hurtling after success anymore. Perhaps he was simply riveted by the process of destroying and rebuilding over anything else. Perhaps he was simply charmed by the feeling of being able to tear something that looked almost perfect apart and putting them back together again.

He was completely obsessed with the idea of building his own perfection.

Grunting at the mutilated limbs, he left his counter, taking swift, off-the-cuff steps into a gloomy basement, lights only palpable from where candles were lit. He hummed nonchalantly as gentle breeze brushed past his face, icy sensation sent tantalizing spurs where his skin could be reached. He’s captivated by the idea of what he was about to do next. A virtuous view of a beautiful hunt after a gruesome failure. Perfect. Just what he needed.

He opened the heavy door to where it led to the inmost depth of the basement, breath trapped in his chest when he did as much as stepping into the room. He held his breath when he reached where a bed lied, smirk pulled on his face as he sat by the side.

“Aww, look at you,” he whispered, voice small, enough to echo around the space. “The once raucous warlock, now a piece of discreet meat.”

He let out a trifling chuckle. With a finger, he traced the gorgeous bone structure of the man’s face, elated by the short eyelashes on his eyes, and released an indulgent sigh upon reaching his lips.

“What a beautiful man you are,” he muttered a perilous tone. “Such beautiful face, such beautiful limbs. Hmmm,” he snuffled in, eyes closed, fingers still pressing against the man’s lips. “I wonder what kind of sound you’d make if I cut you here. Like this.”

From the depth of his groovy clothing, he pulled out a blade, the handle of it gleaming off the tiny diamond. He licked along the blade, shuddered at the taste of blood before he brought the blade to the man’s neck.

“One cut here,” he described, as if narrating a curse no one can understand. “Then, there’d be blood. Ah, yes, blood is good.”

He was so tempted to do exactly what he was imagining in his mind – cutting the vein of the man, watch as blood gushed, damping his skin, the smell of rush filled the air – but he drew the blade away, slashing gaily on the tip of his own finger instead before he put it aside.

“If you aren’t such a good subject, I’d have killed you since the first time we met, you know?” he threatened, words that the unconscious man would never hear. His wounded finger dripped blood off it, the _drip, drip_ , sound if it resounding around the space, the only sound beside his own breathing. Hauling a higher smirk, he brought his finger to the man’s lips, then coating blood over it.

“Hmmm,” he whirred under his breath. Tainted with blood. How inviting.

Nothing is more seductive than having a fragile, vulnerable man in his care like this. Still breathing, still alive. Yet unable to do anything at his own will. All that he could do was letting him do everything he wanted. He could’ve cut his skin open, tear his limbs apart, deform his face and he’d still wouldn’t be able to feel anything at all. It’s enticing to see how a beautiful man fall like this – their sky-high pride crushed in a split second the moment they noticed death being a mere second away.

Aoba loved that split moment – that split moment of pleasure.

But Noiz was different. He came to Aoba as if he was prepared to be killed. He touched him in ways Aoba would never do to a man. His eyes were filled with emotions Aoba never knew the names of, and when he fell for him, he fell in such a way that could only suggest of nothing but intense willingness.

He thought he’d come to know how all beautiful men worked by now, after all the hunting and murders and experiments he’d done. But Noiz was one of a kind. Even when he was sleeping like this, totally defenceless, he looked as beautiful as he always was.

His lips felt soft when Aoba pressed his against them. Still warm, but soft, and for once, Aoba had no intention whatsoever to pull himself off him. All the intention to bite, to bruise, all gone. The taste of blood tarnished his mouth as he licked against Noiz’s lips, tongue tracing every inch of it, taking in every drop of blood that was his own. He wondered how Noiz’s blood would taste like, he wondered how it’d feel to have Noiz’s tongue against his own.

And he wondered if it’s about time to bring Noiz back – to being that obstinate, yet incredibly stunning warlock, once again.

With bloodied finger, he sketched his blood along Noiz’s neck, sullying Noiz’s coarse skin texture with marks of his own blood. He came to a rest on Noiz’s chest, where the heart laid before he broke the rigid silence in the room again.

“Beautiful, absolutely beautiful,” he whispered lowly. His palm, now soaked in his own blood, pressed against the same spot on Noiz’s chest as he took in a deep breath, simply letting the scent of rust rush into his nose. _Thump, thump_. The sound of beating heart, the sound of life. It’s not something he’s used to hearing, having dealt with death at most times. Being able to feel them in such a vivid way did things to him. He’d never once recognized himself as being alive, and all that he was ever good at was looking into physical details – the feast of flesh on one’s muscles, the width of nails, the fine strands of hair, the softness of skin texture – and never was he ever astounded by these beautiful beats of life.

Interesting. _Very interesting_.

He wanted to keep listening to these beats, as long as he could. So, with that thought, he took his hand away from Noiz’s chest, pushed his lips close to his own stain of blood and licked every drop of it off. Finally, he pressed his ear against Noiz’s heart, closing his eyes as he released a gratified sigh.

“Beautiful…” he muttered. He wants this heart so much, _so, so much_ , it hurts. But he didn’t want it when it’s not beating. He wants it when it’s beating like this – solid, fierce, so strong as if it has a conscious of its own. He wants to _own_ this heart. But he knew that he’d never be able to do so if he was to kill Noiz and snatch it for his own use. This heart would not be beating from Noiz’s conscious anymore; it would no longer beat for anyone.

That’s why, he can’t kill Noiz. Not now, at the very least.

He should keep him. But how could he ensure that Noiz would stay with him? How could he be convinced that Noiz wouldn’t leave him once he got bored of him?

Could he ever be assured that he’d meet another Noiz who possessed the same beating heart? Could he ever find another person whose heart only beat for him?

He didn’t know; he didn’t have the answers to any of those questions. He didn’t know how to comfort himself.

And it’s driving him mad.

In an imprudent wrath, he seized the blade from the bedside table again, and, without a second thought, plunged it right into his own chest.

“Ah, haha…” Weak smiles seeped from his mouth, his hand quavered a tad upon realizing pain. It’s fine. He’s used to pain. He’s used to death. This is nothing.

“Oh… I missed the spot, shouldn’t have let my emotions get the better of me, huh?” he commented throatily. Then, he tugged the blade out with one aggressive motion, holding it enough to watch blood trickling off the tip of it and onto Noiz’s chest, before he pushed another thrust into his chest again, aiming just two inches away from his first wound.

“Ouch,” he muttered. The blade has speared right at the corner of his heart, the thin piece of it ripped, having only a meagre slice connecting weakly with the rest of his heart. He took another deep breath, containing the pain, eyes hazy at the physiological response stanched out of physical cruelty. Once he’d calmed, he towed the blade out of his chest, blood erupted all over the place and leaving dark stain spots on Noiz’s body as he clutched onto the bedside table, almost losing balance of his own body, almost losing conscious.

The blade fell onto the floor with a loud clatter, right into the pool of Aoba’s thick fresh blood.

“It’s been a while…” he whispered through hoarse voice. This pain… felt good. But this body would not be able to handle anything more than this if he was to let it suffer more. So… he needed to be fast.

Raising two fingers, he shoved them into his mouth and entangled his tongue around them, licking them so scrupulously until they’re completely sopping in his saliva. With closed eyes, he brought the fingers to the wound on his chest, and, without a second thought, thrust them into his scar.

“Ugh…” Bubbled moans spilled from his lips, sweat doused every inch of his skin, the pain so blinding it was pushing him to the limit of his conscious. He bit onto his lower lip, trying to keep himself sane as he focused on his fingers. Soon, he pulled his fingers out again, holding onto the piece of heart which he’d cut if off himself earlier.

“Good boy,” he beamed frailly at the small piece of meat. After giving it a kiss, he positioned it onto Noiz’s chest, his body finally reaching its limit as he stumbled and fell onto his knees.

“Just a bit more…” he writhed. He could barely make out his own vision now but he wasn’t one to die like this; never one to die like this. Once he set eyes on his own piece of heart and once he felt Noiz’s heartbeats from beneath his chest again, he raised another smile, one that’s gentler than ever.

He’d never done something like this before. It’d be a risk, but from how his wounded heart sprinted at the thought of what would happen next, he was certain that this would be a risk well taken.

 

***

 

He felt nothing when he regained consciousness; nothing surprising anyway, he hadn’t been feeling anything ever since he was born. While he waited for his body to recover its moving ability, he looked around, coming to realize that he was lying on a bed, in a space that looked like a basement. Thick scent of rust filled the room as he wrinkled his nose. There was nothing else in this place besides himself, a bed, and a bedside table. After what felt like an hour, he could finally lift his arm, allowing him to support himself up as he started checking out the rest of his body.

Nothing seemed out of place; all his limbs were unharmed, there were no scars, everything was good as he remembered it to be. Clutching his head, he attempted to seek for the memories before he lost himself, his eyes brightening at the last images he’d seen in his head.

Where is he?

Finally bringing himself to stand from his bed, he walked with wobbly steps towards the heavy door, pulling it open to find himself staring at a long flight of stairs leading to where it should be the living room of the house he was being lured into.

The steps were lengthy and strenuous but he made it. Pushing the door at the end of the flight open, he blocked lights with the back of his hand before he looked around, his meandering gaze only stopped when he found signs of blue, a colour that stood out peculiarly from everything else around the space.

Aoba was busying himself with a cauldron of freshly brewed potion when Noiz strode towards him. He didn’t look around, the attentive expression on his face remained unbothered, as if he hadn’t been noticing Noiz’s presence. But as soon as Noiz was about to say something, he raised a hand, stopping him.

“Shh, baby bear will cry if he hears any noise now,” he whispered, eyes still fixed at the motley liquid in the boiling cauldron.

Noiz wasn’t sure if he even wanted to know what Aoba meant by ‘baby bear’. Releasing a sigh, he leaned against the counter, arms crossed, and waited for Aoba to be done with his business.

It didn’t take long. Soon after, Aoba closed the lid of the cauldron, the familiar smirk returned to his features as he averted his attention back to Noiz.

“Good morning,” he said with a beam.

“As far as I know, the sky is dark and it’s supposed to be night time now,” Noiz said, pointing at the window with his chin.

“Oh? Was that a greeting meant for only bright days? Oh well, time is only a concept anyway, isn’t it?” Aoba droned. “Too bad, I wouldn’t know it for sure, though. Can’t remember when’s the last time I slept.”

He probably should nudge more on that statement but Aoba was quick to come and stand in front of him, using his finger to tap playfully on his nose.

“Hope you slept well, sleeping prince.”

Noiz scowled. Aoba was about to walk away again but he seized onto his wrist, pulling him back.

“What did you do to me?”

“What do you mean?” Aoba asked with a grin.

“You must have done something to me,” Noiz pressed, irk obvious in his tone.

“Aww, I wonder?” Aoba sniggered, a response that had Noiz’s hands swathing around his neck, pressure enough to block air into his windpipe.

“Spill it,” Noiz snarled into his face.

“Do you feel uncomfortable anywhere?” Aoba asked instead.

There’s nothing Noiz could say to that. He felt as normal as usual, as if nothing happened at all.

“You must’ve done _something_ ,” Noiz gritted.

“That’s for you to find out? Isn’t it interesting, warlock? This whole… _mystery_ surrounding what has happened to you. Did I do something to your body? Your mind? Did I change your brain? Are you the Noiz you believe yourself to be? Is everything you remember memories that belong to you and not someone else’s?”

Aoba clearly wasn’t at all afraid of Noiz’s threats. Instead, he seemed like he was taking delight at Noiz’s infuriated reaction, which did nothing but anger Noiz more.

But there’s nothing he could do. Aoba wouldn’t tell him just like that, he’d come to know him enough to tell. He didn’t have a concrete evidence to what Aoba might have or might have not done with him either and Aoba was certainly not the right person to whom he could seek his answers from. So all that he could do now was to find the answer for himself, like what Aoba had suggested him to.

He released his grasp on Aoba’s neck, having Aoba to cough for a few times before he felt he felt a cold finger against his cheek.

“Don’t be angry. You’ll ruin that pretty face of yours,” Aoba said through rasping voice, albeit not enough to hide the laugh in his tone.

Noiz brushed him off. There’s nothing else he could do now. He’s confused and exhausted. It’s been a day… or that’s what he thought it was. He can’t even tell how much time had passed since he’d met this insane man in the forest. If he was to spend his time any longer in this place, he felt as if he’d lose his sanity soon.

Without another word, he walked towards the door.

“Leaving already?” Aoba called out to him, the _tap, tap_ sound from the counter telling Noiz enough that he’d gone back to his cauldrons.

“I’ll be back,” was all Noiz said before he pulled the door open.

“Bye,” Aoba waved with a grin. With eyes still fixed at Noiz’s disappearing back, he muttered, words that sounded as if he was speaking to himself. “I look forward to seeing you again, warlock. Very, very much.”

He laughed out loud, then started humming the same song he didn’t know the name of as he pressed a palm against his chest. _Thump, thump_. The sound of life, of being alive, of being human. He released a sigh as he closed his eyes, the smirk on his lips curved higher as he did.

 


	2. Extra: Best Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His best gift is him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “From now on, dead bodies are never gifts, okay?” He nodded at this, but it was begrudging.

He wasn’t used to company. He was used to walking around his own place, hearing the cracking of bones and slipping on blood and he was used to waking up in piles of meat and smarmy brain juice but he wasn’t used to coming home to a clean, organized space, having his jars of materials lined up gracefully on his shelves, and waking up to blanket over him and sometimes even to a perfectly alive man, either staring as his sleep or simply sleeping by his side.

Having company was a huge,  _huge_  distraction. He loved doing things by himself, sleeping at hours that he deemed appropriate, with eating an option more than a necessity. He loved bringing either a whole man home, or just parts of him, and not having to deal with hypercritical stares that often came with profound groans.

The privilege was gloriously mugged off him when he found himself in the company of Noiz, a warlock in town, one that was nothing but outstanding, and one that was so persistently attached to him he found no reason  _not_  to kill him if he could.

But he didn’t. Instead, he allowed this very man to come as he liked, stay as he liked, and even when he found his company a bit too overwhelming at times, he still couldn’t deny the fact that having someone  _alive_  by his side being a pacifying addition to his dead-filled hut.

“Are you eating?”

He didn’t even look up from his pot of potion when he heard Noiz calling out for him. Acknowledgement wasn’t the courtesy practiced in this house and he found no reason to respond when he was obviously engaged with something far more important.

The next time he looked up, Noiz was nowhere to be seen. Assuming that he’d left to find food for himself, Aoba walked out of the room, fraught and slumped on the nearest couch he could find. He had three minutes until the boiling of the potion and three minutes was too long. He hated having nothing to do like this.

He tapped his feet petulantly, humming peevishly, until when he heard sound from the door that he looked up again.

“Thought you went to find food,” he said with a smirk.

“I did,” Noiz responded nonchalantly. He waved at a bag of what seemed to be a bloodied pile of meat on his hand, then shoving it towards Aoba’s face. “Food.”

“Heh,” Aoba grinned. He sniffed. He loved the smell of blood – warm, fresh blood, especially. And he loved the colour, the pleasant colour of intense red.

“I’m cooking,” Noiz said, walking away.

“Feel free,” Aoba leaned against the couch, crossing his fingers behind his head. “Don’t touch my ingredients, though.”

“I don’t think I’d like to taste nails and brain juices in my food,” Noiz’s voice echoed from a corner in the house.

“But they taste nice,” Aoba retorted, a melody-like voice that rang of nothing but tease.

“They do not,” Noiz refuted. He heard the sound of metal hitting against metal and chortled.

“Oops, three minutes.”

With that, he stood, hurrying towards his pot and revelled in the scent of fresh potion. Step one done. Now to the next step.

Noiz was sitting on the table with his plate of meat when Aoba sauntered into the room. Merely giving him a flickering stare, he sat opposite him, meddling with the long tube of neon-green liquid in his hand.

“What’s that?” Noiz asked, munching on his meat.

“Elixir. Fifteen well-polished nails, five drops of brain juices, palm-sized skin texture, and of course, the eyeballs with the colour of green. Like yours,” Aoba ended with a look at Noiz’s lime-green pair of eyes, a grin to convoy the tease in his tone.

“Appreciate if you don’t do that when I’m eating, though,” Noiz groused.

“You asked, I answer,” Aoba responded in a singsong manner. “Besides, I wanted to give this to you as spice for your bland food.”

“What?”

Aoba waved the tube in front of Noiz’s eyes, not answering. His eyes on Noiz’s, he tugged the tube open, holding it upside down and slavering the liquid onto Noiz’s food, having the other to stare at him with obvious displeasure on his face.

“This would taste good now,” Aoba said, discarding the empty tube aside. Then, without a care of any of Noiz’s opinions, he flicked a finger against the meat, now drenched in neon-green, and brought the texture to his mouth. “Hmmmmmm, amazing, simply amazing.”

Noiz pushed the plate away. Lurching forward and grasping Aoba on the wrist, he pulled him over, their faces close, their eyes meeting in an intense fervour.

“From now on, dead bodies are never gifts, okay?” he growled into Aoba’s face, just to be responded by Aoba’s playful laugh.

“I thought you’d like it, how rude,” he whispered, then inching closer just so he could lick Noiz on his lips. “Yuck.”

“ _No_ ,” Noiz said, firmed. “I don’t want anything from you.”

“Aww, I’m hurt.”

He left Noiz at it anyway. Maybe one day Noiz would come to appreciate the beauty of his gift. If he was to give him enough gift like this. And maybe, Noiz would be the gift himself.

Who knows?


	3. 2: Warlock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5 things a warlock can do.  
> And 5 things a warlock is afraid of.

[ **F A L S E  H O P E** ]

 

It’s terrifying how a person can never tell the truth about themselves; like they can’t tell if voices and words that echoed in their heads were what they really were or if they were just what they wanted to hear. It’s scary how humans were surrounded by perceptions and what’s wrong and right were shaped and defined by one’s sentiment and majority votes.

It’s terrible -- and unfair -- how humans were shaped by every other element but themselves.

He waited long enough to make sure that nothing’s wrong with himself. His brain, checked. His emotional and mental states, checked. His memories… well, as far as he’s concerned, there’s nothing disturbing about them and he’s still very much distrustful towards Seragaki Aoba and he still remembered why he was after him. 

If his logic paralleled with his end goals, then there should be nothing wrong with him at all. Despite that, he was certain that Seragaki Aoba must’ve done  _ something. _ There’s no way he didn’t. But there’s no way to find out the truth either. He knew nothing about Seragaki Aoba besides what he heard from the hearsays and he couldn’t tell enough of him to predict what he could and would do. The doubts kept him awake at night, troubling him more than everything else already had. 

He tried to learn Seragaki Aoba’s way of living by observing him from afar and he tried to gain more knowledge about him that he didn’t already know. But none of those efforts was fruitful. There’s a limit to how much information he could gather about someone who’s already secretive in the first place and he knew that he’d reached it.

The only way out now was to approach the man himself. Face to face.

Sneaking in on board daylight didn’t feel right to him. He couldn't explain it himself. It just didn’t. So he waited till the sun fell and Earth was blanketed in nothing but cold and darkness that he traced a careful path towards Aoba’s house. Aoba didn’t occur to him as a man who would follow regular routines like any other men did and there’s probably no point considering what’s the appropriate time to give him a surprise visit anyway. But this -- sneaking up at him in the dark -- felt right to him and if there’s anything he could blame for taking the predictable route it’d be his own great ego. 

Sure enough, the lights in the house were bright and small sounds could be heard from the inside when Noiz noticed a few deep scratches on the door that weren’t there during his last visit. Trying not to delve into another round of futile hypothesis, he raised his hand to knock on the door when he hesitated, suddenly questioning his life decision all over again. He dropped his hand, frowned, and was about to walk away when a voice echoed from beneath the door.

“What’s the delay, warlock? You’ve been keeping me waiting for way too long, you know?”

Well, well, well. This should be expected. It’s the mighty, undefeatable mad wizard, Seragaki Aoba, after all. Of course he would’ve known that Noiz would drop by sooner or later.

He felt like an utter idiot for acting so very unlike himself now.

Driven in raw frustration, he pushed the door open without knocking, immediately coming face to face with Aoba, who was, once again, standing behind his counter, stirring what seemed to be another pot of potion again.

“I’ve missed you, sweetheart,” Aoba pulled a wide grin, eyes narrowed with an intense intention of tease.

Noiz shrugged with a deeper frown. The door closed behind him, he heard the sound of a lock, but didn’t bother to check it out. 

“So what you’ve been up to lately? Besides peeking on me in the bushes and disturbing people who know nothing but the obvious? I’ll say that I’m extremely flattered, warlock, and I’ll give you that. You’re so engrossed with me to the extent that you think about me all the time, trying to figure out a person that’s way beyond your league and even…” Aoba paused, his stirring motion stopped as he set his full, undivided attention on Noiz. “...lose sleep because of me?”

“It’s not entirely you, just so you know,” Noiz retorted. He walked towards the counter, nose scrunching at the scent of rotten meat. “Sleep has never been a friend.”

“I understand that perfectly.” Aoba let his eyes drift dreamily from the bubbled surface of the orange liquid to look at Noiz, his interest seemingly occupied entirely by the warlock. “I can’t remember when’s the last time I slept either.”

That’s way worse than Noiz’s condition. Even with little sleep, Noiz still  _ slept _ , like any other normal human being would, fulfilling a basic human need. Aoba’s statement, though, pushed all the thoughts about himself being abnormal out of the way, his brain radar sped into a rapid pace as he became enthralled by this new information.

“Don’t you feel tired? Don’t you do this thing called ‘falling asleep’?” Noiz probe, trying to draw as much out of Aoba as possible.

“Nope,” Aoba replied offhandedly. “Sleep is a foreign concept to me. Tired? Maybe. Maybe not. Thing is, I never know how tired feels like so I don’t think I’m able to answer that, warlock. 

He walked out of the counter, paced around the space, his long cloak swifting with the rhythm of the gentle breeze as looked around, as if finding for something before he came to a stop in front of Noiz again, still grinning.

“You see, time is a foreign concept for me. It’s as if time doesn’t exist. Days, months, years… All of these are relative to me. Time makes sense only when you’re aware of it, and unfortunately, I don’t, so it doesn’t make sense to me.”

“And that’s why sleep doesn’t matter either. And that’s  _ also _ why…” he paused, flicking a playful finger against Noiz’s nose, which the other brushed away, before he continued. “...I’m abnormal.”

“You can say whatever you want but you’re still a one of the many living beings in this world. Sooner or later, the flow of nature will come back and bite you from behind,” Noiz said, half warning, half curious.

“I guess so,” Aoba shrugged. “But until then, I’m not going to let it do whatever it want with me.”

“You’ll still age and eventually face death,” Noiz stepped closer to him, implying a sign of intimidation. “There’s no way you can oppose the law of nature.”

Aoba laughed then, as if Noiz had just told him a hilarious joke. 

“I know about that, oh of course I do. Why do you think I’m hunting every day?”

His words made no sense to Noiz, and he didn’t seem like he’s about to clear Noiz’s doubts either. Instead, he returned to his cauldron, peeking at the content and did a small lick on his upper lip. 

“Make yourself at home, warlock. Since you’re so persistent with this whole sleep thing, you can sleep if you want. I love looking at your face when you sleep.”

As if he would.

Instead of doing what Aoba had suggested him to, Noiz advanced towards Aoba while he was lifting the spoon to observe the sticky liquid on it, then grasping him on the wrist.

“Woah, patience, young man,” Aoba stumbled a tad, blowing languidly at the red patch on his hand from where hot liquid had spilled from the spoon.

“Tell me, do you want to sleep?” Noiz said with a tone that sounded like a demand more than anything else.

“What a question,” the curves on the corners of Aoba’s lips lifted just a little. “Unfortunately, I have no answers for you. I know not of the art of sleeping and I know not of the desire to try it out.”

Noiz only gripped him tighter on the wrist.

“I am, however, interested in your skill, and I would like to know if the mighty warlock could let me experience sleep for what it is,” the last of Aoba’s voice dropped to a heated whisper and despite it being something that Noiz would never want to trigger, he knew that it’s the only way to get Aoba involved in anything he suggested at all.

“You’re in luck,” Noiz said in a hush. “Because I, too, have difficulties sleeping and I, unlike someone, have figured out a solution to keep my mortal body in check.”

“Heh?” Aoba pulled a long breath.

“As far as I can tell, whether if you like to admit it or not, your body is still flesh and blood and bone and perfectly mortal so there’s no way you won’t crave for the basic necessities mortals need to stay alive.”

“And what could they be? Oh, wait, I got this,” Aoba paused, tilting his head sideway, gaze lingering at a spot behind Noiz before he conjured a playful tone. “The seven sins, you mean? Gluttony, lust, wrath, pride… But as far as I’m concerned, sleep isn’t one of them. Or did they add that in when I wasn’t aware?”

“Sleep is not a sin,” Noiz gritted through his teeth. “It’s a  _ need _ .”

“I, obviously, don’t understand human’s definition of needs then,” Aoba shook his head with a soft, clearly fake sigh.

“So do you want to experience sleep or not?” Noiz pressed.

“I want to experience your skill, if that’s the same as whatever sleep is.”

Whatever. At this point, it’s no use trying to talk sense into Aoba any more. It’d just be a waste of time. And it’s pointless trying to change his mind because it’s no use trying to convince a person who didn’t want to be convinced in the first place. After withdrawing a loud sigh, Noiz pulled Aoba out of his counter, dragging him across the room, and had him sit on the couch.

“I’m excited,” Aoba did a small clap as he hopped playfully in his seat.

“It’s nothing to be excited about,” Noiz mumbled under his breath. 

“Oh, but I’m going to see new skills from you. And sleep, yeah, that’s that too.”

If Noiz could roll his eyes, he would. But there’s no time to waste now; he’s got to strike the iron while it’s hot. He never knew when Aoba would change his mind and mind you, the process of hypnotizing wasn’t as lightning-fast as any of his attacking and defending skills.

“So what should I do now?” Aoba asked, voice hushed and impatient. “Should I sit higher? Lower? Lift my hands? Legs? Or--”

“Just keep quiet and sit,” Noiz raised his voice.

“Okay,” Aoba responded in a sing-song manner.

After making sure that Aoba wasn’t up to any tricks, Noiz trapped Aoba in between his hands and fixed their gaze together.

He never had many chances to take a close look at Aoba but now that he did, he noticed the golden brim around Aoba’s pupils, as if they were illustrated upon, and how focused his gaze was, as if he was shooting multiple arrows right into Noiz’s own lime-green orbs. He closed his eyes, just momentarily, trying to stay focused, and stare again.

“I didn’t realize it before but you have some yellow in your green, that’s beautiful,” Aoba muttered, hot breath slipping from his lips, hitting Noiz on the mouth.

“Is this your first time staying still like this?” Noiz whispered, tone deep. “The first time… you actually look someone in the eyes?”

“In fact, yes,” Aoba returned with a similar low and quiet tone. “I never cared. Humans are preys and they’ll always be.”

He tried not to decipher whatever Aoba said as him being the first and perhaps, the only person Aoba ever cared for.

“Keep your eyes on me,” Noiz pulled a fleeting, small smile. “Just like this.”

Aoba, surprisingly, obeyed without more questions nor more rejections. He kept his eyes on Noiz, as if examining his orbs, the colors, or perhaps even trying to figure out what his eyes were made of, when Noiz snaked a hand across Aoba’s arm, slowly and gently tracing a smooth line along the shape of his muscles.

“Imagine if this is all that you can do for the rest of your life,” Noiz said carefully, weighing every word, letting every breath he let out sink. “There’s no longer a need to fight, the world is at peace, you’ve attained everything you want. You no longer struggle, no longer searching, and you finally found what you’ve been searching for your entire life.” With a pause, Noiz moved his hands towards Aoba’s body, one hand clasping onto the waist, the other sneaking its way towards Aoba’s chest. “You’re finally at peace with yourself.”

“Will that day ever come, though?” Aoba asked; he no longer sounded comical, his tone less deep than before. And for the first time in his life, Noiz felt like this was a genuine question coming from the dark, mad wizard himself.

“It will,” Noiz said, inching closer towards Aoba, the hand on his waist making its way up to Aoba’s face as he twirled around the tip of Aoba’s hair strands. “One day, it will. As long as you let it come to you.”

Aoba released what sounded like a small chuckle but his eyes never left Noiz’s. He’s completely enthralled by Noiz’s words, having Noiz’s voice to pull him into a fantasy that he never once imagined.

“You need to let go,” Noiz continued, finger now stroking on Aoba’s cheek as Aoba closed his eyes, as if contemplating. “You can slow down sometimes, take a rest. You’re fine.”

He could feel the weight sink on the couch, and -- he didn’t know what prompted him to do that -- when his lips touched Aoba’s, the steady breathing from Aoba’s lips made him feel as if he was sucked into the world Aoba was seeing in his head now. Heavy heartbeats echoed from beneath his palm. He took one of Aoba’s hands with his free hand and guided it to his own chest, so that Aoba could feel the same momentum he’s feeling right now.

“I’ll take care of it,” Noiz said, even though he’s no longer sure if Aoba was even listening by now. “I’ll take care of  _ you _ .”

For the first time ever since he’d acquainted Aoba, he was finally able to check out Aoba’s face, his body, and every part of his existence as long and as much as he wanted…

...as Aoba submitted his conscious to sleep for the first time ever.

 

* * *

 

[ **P A R T  O F  N A T U R E** ]

 

“Did you take my nails? My hair? How did they taste like? Oh, oh, did you take my heart?”

He regretted bringing up the whole sleeping thing with Aoba. Maybe. Just a bit.

Aoba had been on his heels 36 hours later, when he woke. He didn’t seem to take concern towards whatever that has happened to his cauldron of new material now; all that he cared about was every single word that had come out of Noiz’s mouth, which was nothing more than a shrug.

“I don’t feel very different, maybe just more refreshing, my adrenaline is running on insane pace, and the sky, is the sky brighter or something? Oh, and I can see better, did you change my eyes?”

“It’s called ‘ _ having enough sleep _ ’,” Noiz scowled, practically squeezing words out of his mouth.

“You finally speak,” Aoba pulled wide a grin. “Okay then, tell me, warlock, what did you do to me? What was that? I don’t remember anything. Did you pull some memory deleting skill or something? How did you do that? Did you rearrange nerves? Change my brain? Alter time?”

“All I ever  _ did _ ,” Noiz growled, his temper at the risk of losing control. “... was giving you a fake perception and shut your brain down. It’s nothing to do with whatever nerves arrangement or time traveling, I’m only helping you to  _ stop thinking _ .”

Aoba fell silent; a pause that was unusually nerve-wrecking. He looked longingly at Noiz, as if expecting him to continue speaking but when Noiz didn’t, he burst out laughing. Cupping his chin, he strolled around the room in frantic circles.

“Stopping me from thinking, huh?”

“More like, distracting you, giving you a false sense of hope,” Noiz emphasized, a dire attempt to stop Aoba from questioning more than he could take.

“False sense of hope…” Aoba repeated the words on his tongue. “Like a false reality?”

“...something like that.” Amazing how he could phrase it better than Noiz ever could.

“That’s impressive. It’s got to have something to do with the brain, I’m sure of it,” Aoba pestered.

“Not everything is physical,” Noiz stressed. “Things we can’t see exist too.”

“Things that are not flesh and blood and bones?”

“Obviously.”

“What could they be?” Aoba’s eyes twinkled and Noiz once again felt a gush of guilt pooling at the bottom of his guts. That’s why he should keep his mouth shut.

“Souls, forces, nature… emotions,” he said while Aoba inched closer and closer to his face with every single word that came out of his mouth.

“I know nothing about those but nature, yeah, I know nature, of course… that’s the trick you pulled on me when we first met too, isn’t it?”

Now that Aoba mentioned it, he did manipulated natural elements to hold Aoba down when they first crossed path. Impressive how Aoba even remembered that; thought he was never interested in humans.

“Something like that,” he muttered the same phrase.

“Interesting,” Aoba nodded his head in approval. “Show me.”

“What?”

“That… whatever nature manipulation skill.”

“You are still not over that?” Noiz grimaced. Truthfully, after spending a few days in Aoba’s house all that he wanted now was to go back to his own home and draw himself back into his very much needed mortal sleep. But he’d let his tongue slip and now he had to shoulder the consequences.

“I’ll never be over you, child,” Aoba grinned sheepishly. “I crave to learn everything about you, as much as you yearn to learn everything about me.”

“Well, that’s a first,” Noiz retorted.

“First of what?”

“To know that you’re interested in me.”

“Didn’t I make it clear from the first day we met, warlock?” Aoba whistled.

“For all I know, you’re more interested in my physical being than whatever that you can’t see,” Noiz finally stood from the couch to escape Aoba’s persistent, longing, up-close gaze, and coming to lean against the wall, arms crossed and eyes closed, trying to catch just a few moments of precious sleep.

Aoba crept up towards him, tilting his chin with the tip of his staff he’d grabbed when Noiz showed a sense of leaving, the soft flesh sensation that was the brain on the top of the skull had Noiz shrugging in disgust.

“False,” Aoba breathed into his face. “I crave of you as an existence beyond everything that’s physical.”

His words did things to Noiz and he prayed that it was nothing with affection in it.

He pushed the staff away from his face, pulling himself away from Aoba and picked his cloak from the couch.

“C’mon, don’t go before you show me that nature--”

“It’s called element control,” Noiz interrupted. “And if you really want to know, follow me.”

“Are we going out?” Aoba asked, sounding almost excited.

“Obviously,” Noiz said with a huff. 

“Where to?”

“Somewhere safe,” Noiz answered without looking back, throttling into the midst of the forest with Aoba following closely behind him.

“Your house?”

“Keep dreaming.”

“Well, nowhere else is safe.”

He almost bumped into Noiz when Noiz came to an abrupt stop in what seemed like the most normal spot in the forest.

“Are we expecting preys?” Aoba rubbed his hands, licking his lips as his eyes wandered around the vacant space.

“No,” Noiz replied curtly. 

Without any intention to explain, he closed his eyes, released a low breath and in the next second, the wind came gusting towards them, disturbing the peace of the trees and bushes.

“Wow, did you do that?” Aoba stared around, amused.

Noiz didn’t answer again. This time, Aoba felt something shook from beneath his feet. When he looked down, he saw that mud had cracked between his feet, pieces of them came surging out of the land, lifting him up and almost causing him to lose balance.

“Great, cool,” was all he managed to say before the green around him was pulled off their roots, swarming towards him in a tangled, whip-like form and wrapping him into a cocoon.

“I perfectly get what you mean by element control now,” he said in mild delight, body motion restrained from the strong wrap of the plants.

“Wind, soil, grass, fire, and water,” Noiz said discreetly as he made his way towards Aoba. “I can control them with ease.”

“How about light?” Aoba asked instead.

“Light is not possible. That element is more complicated than you think it is. Tampering with light means disturbing the--”

But before he could finish speaking, bright light emitted from where Aoba was wrapped up, the intensity of it so strong it caused the plants to burn and melt, all the while pushing Noiz’s vision into a state of pure-white.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch the last bit. You were saying?”

It took a while for Noiz to readjust his vision and when he did, Aoba was free of restraints, a glimmer of white light blinking from the tip of his staff.

“...You can control light,” Noiz said under his breath. 

“Unfortunately, I could,” Aoba grinned in great satisfaction. “Blinding, isn’t it? Beautiful too. When light take over your sense, you see of nothing but pure white and you’ll sense of nothing but heat. It’s the same as hope, isn’t it? When you see hope, you will tend to believe that darkness has left you alone and it’s fine to be happy and optimistic again.”

Aoba pulled his staff out of the mud, then walking back to where they came from as Noiz stared at his leaving back.

“Until darkness comes haunting you all over again.”

At that moment of time, it dawned upon him. He wondered if Aoba was genuinely interested in his skills, or if he was simply ridiculing him the entire time. And once again, he wondered how Aoba was so great at manipulating his trust, as if he was under his control the entire time, as if he was merely a chess piece on the chess board.

 

* * *

 

[ **D I S G U I S E** ]

 

The mad man in the forest often existed like some sort of myth; a rumor at most. No one man would ever stay alive after acquainting him, making him like some sort of God of Death. His existence made the forest a forbidden ground; and if one was to venture into the depth of green, their sole intention was merely to end their life -- by submitting it to the very Death in the forest. 

But Noiz wasn’t interested with how that very mad man killed many in the forest nor how did he leave the corpses without their complete bodies. What really caught Noiz’s interest, ultimately having him to make steps that he’d never, was how rumors about strange acquaintances with the madman spread in the village every once a while, where that very man had been seen  _ walking _ and  _ talking _ with people.

The very thought of Aoba treating people like people intrigued Noiz greatly.

What reason could the oh-so-mighty Seragaki Aoba have to be setting his own foot into the crowd? He could get whatever he wanted with ease and clearly, he wasn’t one who would choose to live amongst people, let alone interact with them. Unless if they’re, well, dead. Another question mark on Noiz’s long list of qualms about Aoba, and another list of things to prepare to get into action and to figure out the answer to this doubt for himself.

He’d built a reputation for himself ever since he started residing in the village, give or take, about just a year ago. He’d manipulated objects and wind under the public’s eyes and he was especially known for poking his nose into anything that had to do with the mad man in the forest. 

But ever since the infamous incident in the forest when he was seen and accused of being an ally of the mad man, all interactions seemed to have disconnected between himself and the villagers. The only reason he didn’t find his house burned down to ashes when he was absent was perhaps due to the fact that many still feared his warlock skills, despite having helped many out throughout his stay here. Typical; people tended to be afraid of things they can’t understand. It can’t be helped. He wasn’t in any position to blame the villagers, nor did he want to force anything out of them when it was already a blessing in disguise for him to still have a roof to stay under despite everything. 

Still, a pressing time came for a pressing solution. 

And if the villagers were  _ already _ afraid of what he could do, then perhaps there’s no harm for him to try out more fearful thing. As long as no one knew about it.

He walked out of the house after yet another uneventful sleeping session, black-rimmed glasses on his face, his usual cloak nowhere to be seen, replaced instead by a three-piece suit with a top hat on his head. It’s a style that’s completely different from what he’s used to wearing, a style that he often caught sight in the city where he’s from. People here probably never saw this before, and even with his physical appearance, he knew perfectly well that it’s not going to deceive them from how careful they were with strangers. 

So he did some trick to his face and his hands in front of the mirror before he left the house. It was a simple spell, a temporary aging of skin texture that put his time-altering skill into practice, then did another trick to alter his voice into one of hoarse and deep. 

Now he’s pretty sure he looked less intimidating than his usual look.

He walked towards the direction of the bar, situated at one corner of the village, near the edge of the forest. The weight of his footsteps told him enough that age had obviously caught up to him, quite literally. When he opened the door to the bar, the strong scent of alcohol made him cough and burned him in the stomach.

He can’t wait to finish this snooping around business so he could return to his youthful physique again.

“Hey, old man, never see you before!”

A pat on his back almost had him tumbling onto the ground but he grasped hard onto the nearest chair he could find, looking sideway, almost glaring, to find a muscular, bearded man with a cigar in between his lips.

“Oops, sorry, we’re not used to having old folks in here,” the man quickly drew his hand away from Noiz’s back. “You sure you in the right place, grandpa?”

Noiz pulled a smirk, one that the man possibly couldn’t see from the folds of wrinkles on his face.

“I would like a cup of water, young man,” he said with measured hoarse voice.

“Sure thing,” the man said. “Might want to sit somewhere while I get your drink. Gonna be troublesome if you fall, ya know? Over there. There. Can you see? Around the counter beside that white-haired man. Go sit down. I’ll get your drink for you.”

Noiz did as he was told. He followed where the man -- who seemed to be the owner of the bar -- has directed and easily found the white-haired man, who looked at him in mild interest when they shared eye contact.

“New in town?” the man spoke. He looked and sounded young, maybe just about Noiz’s age, and clearly looked like he had yet to learn about how to respect elderly. He’s also wearing a grin on his face, one eyebrow lifting when Noiz took a seat beside him.

“Yeah,” Noiz said nonchalantly.

“What business do you have here, old man?” the man asked again, drawing circles on the table with droplets of water from his beer as he gazed interestingly at Noiz. Now that Noiz could hear him properly over the noise, his voice was surprisingly airy, missing a few notes when he paused between words; he’s likely drunk.

“I’ve heard of a man,” Noiz was quick to get into his business, already feeling annoyance accumulate at the tip of his knuckles.

“A man?”

“...A man in the forest.”

The man clapped a hand against his mouth, eyes wide.

“Oh my, oh my, you’re interested in him too?”

Noiz perked a curious eyebrow. “Do you know him?”

“I do. I mean, who don’t? Is that the reason why you’re here? To know more about him?”

“Something like that.”

The bigger-sized man interrupted then, coming towards Noiz with his water.

“I heard mad man,” he said, eyeing both Noiz and the excited teenager suspiciously.

“Hey, this old man wants to know more about him. Didn’t you mention seeing him here just a couple of days ago?” the young man was quick to explain, looking even more excited than Noiz was.

“Seriously? That’s what people are interested in? Even more than how I defeated a bear last week?” the muscular man sighed loudly, crossing his arms and shaking his head.

“C’mon, it’s not everyday you get to meet a mad man,” the teen inched over the counter to push the man on the shoulder. “You can kill a bear anytime you want.”

“And that’s why you’re here?” the man glanced over at Noiz after brushing the young man away, who whistled an unknown town and made gestures in the air as if he was drawing the shape of a heart.

“I’m carrying out a research for my city,” Noiz came up with an excuse. “We’re looking into peculiar cases.”

“Do you happen to be with the authorities or something?” the man asked. “If that’s so, please, get that man out of this place so we can live peacefully.”

“Is it even possible, though?” the young man turned around his high chair. “Heard that man is invincible or something.”

“Not when I saw him here the last time,” the man retorted.

“So how was he like? What did he want?” Noiz asked, before the young man can disturb his mission again.

“He’s normal. Looks normal, walks normal,” the man closed his eyes, trying to remember. “Until when you see his face and hear him speak.”

“Hmmmm?” the young man stared intensely at the man, eagerly waiting for him to continue.

“It’s hard to describe, can’t tell what’s the deal with him. It’s just that… he doesn’t feel very much like a human, like a ghost… a spirit or something.”

“But he speaks normally? Like anyone else?” Noiz probed.

“Yeah… Yeah, that’s the thing. That’s why I can’t explain. He seems like he’s up to something, like he’s got some hidden agenda or something but… argh, he’s bad news, you hear me? He’s clearly not something normal people like us should mess with.”

“And you defeated a bear?” the young man tilted his head.

“Shut up! This mad man, or whatever he is, is not a bear! He’s not even alive!”

“What did he want here?” Noiz interjected again, sounding almost impatient now, just so he could dig as much information as he could before he lose the man.

“Nothing. That’s the thing --  _ nothing _ . He didn’t even order a drink, he’s just… sitting in that corner,” the man pointed at a dark corner, where a vacant seat now stood. “And just… looking around,  _ grinning _ . L-Like a ghost.”

The man shuddered. “I’m feeling the cold thinking about it now. Anyway, if you’re from the authorities and you have weapons or black magic or whatever that can get rid of that man, please, do us a favor and do it. The villagers will be very grateful. Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to take a booze to get over this.”

With that said, the man left, leaving both Noiz and the young man by themselves.

A thin frown formed in between Noiz’s eyebrows as he pondered. What could Aoba’s business be? Just to meddle with the villagers? Just for fun? He could understand perfectly why the man felt what he felt when he came into contact with Aoba. If he wasn’t an elemental master coupled with the fact that he wasn’t able to feel the most basic of human emotions, he was sure that he’d feel the chills from Aoba too. 

The thought of how he might be just the same kind of being as Aoba, the mad man, made him feel like he’d just got squeezed at the heart.

“Hey, heeeeey! Are you listening to me?”

A rough pat on his shoulder pulled his attention back from his deep thoughts as he turned around to direct the frown on the young man. He didn’t quite notice it when he was occupied but now that he was back to reality -- back to this physique -- he could feel sore building up on where he was being patted, quite intensely. He needed to get out of here soon before he lost his own body for real.

“Got what you need?” the young man pulled a smirk, purposefully bending down so that he could cast Noiz a look from a low angle. The gesture pulled a hitch out of Noiz. It’s terribly familiar. He shook his head.

“No?” the grin disappeared from the boy’s face.

“I did,” Noiz said briefly. 

“Really?” He’s grinning again, and if Noiz had blinked, he was sure that he’d missed the dark shade in the young man’s pupils. “So what do you think about this mad man?”

“What do  _ you _ think?” Noiz redirected the question, trying to distract himself at the same time.

“I can’t tell,” the boy stopped moving around, then coming so close to Noiz that he could now see the colors of his eyes, a shade of bright golden reflecting in his own lime-green orbs. “No one can really tell how they themselves are as a person, can’t they? The listen to how others think about them and believe themselves to be so. They simply exist as opinions and perceptions of others, souls contaminated, spirit lost from the day they gained contact with the outside world. I’m sure you understand,  _ Noiz _ .”

It took a whole moment -- when  _ the boy _ walked away, out of the bar -- for Noiz to realize that there’s a totally different reason to why Aoba was feared by the villagers.

Something he had gotten the chance to feel it in his bones for himself today, even when he was supposed to be the elemental master with no emotions.

 

* * *

 

[ **R E S U R R E C T I O N** ]

 

“How long have you been doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“Sneaking into town, pretending to be someone you’re not?”

“Oh, for a moment, I thought you’re talking about yourself.”

There’s no point being courteous with Aoba; right from the moment he permitted himself entrance into Aoba’s house like he owned the place, he’d been showering him with questions after questions, sounding like he was interrogating a criminal that was set loose.

“I have a question, warlock.”

Today, Aoba wasn’t behind his counter; he was standing close to the window when Noiz walked in,  drawing some kind of map mixed with various formulas Noiz had no ideas of on the wall with chalks of various colors. Too many jargons. Noiz even spotted a few words in a language that’s definitely not what they’re using to converse with each other now. Exactly  _ how much _ does this man know, anyway? He hated to admit it but after having experienced the man’s bizarre potentials first-hand and having being fooled around like he’s some sort of puppet, he was certain that fear was blooming from within him, something that he often mistaken as admiration.

“Why would you spend so much effort sneaking around town when the person you want to dig things out from is literally right here?” Aoba asked, still scribbling on the wall without looking at Noiz.

“That’s precisely why,” Noiz slanted against the counter with his arms crossed. His features had now returned to how he originally looked like; no more wrinkles, no more aching back. “You won’t tell me even if I ask, so regardless if you’re here or not, I won’t find my answers directly from you.”

“Why are you so certain about that?” Aoba asked, now drawing a huge circle connecting a few formulas together. “Is that why you never asked? Assumptions hurt, you know?”

“You won’t tell me,” Noiz persisted. “For all I know, you only see me as a toy, a piece of chess, fooling around with me however you want and playing those word games at me like I don’t understand the implications behind them.”

“Do you, then?” For the first time since Noiz stepped into the room, Aoba was looking at him in the eyes with the familiar grin on his face. “Do you understand why I do what I do?”

Noiz frowned. He’d stepped over the line. Thank you once again, ego. Truth was, he didn’t. He couldn’t figure out who and what Aoba was, let alone his intentions for all the tricks he’d played at him. Admitting so now would only put him in a bad spot so he choose to turn away, just to have Aoba throwing the chalks aside and hopping towards him.

“Hey, I asked a question, give me an answer,” Aoba pushed, speaking like a child. 

“Likewise,” Noiz retorted. “If you could just answer all my questions I could probably consider giving you this one.”

“Hmm…” Aoba pondered with a tilted head. “No.”

“See, I told you--”

“Because you didn’t need to,” Aoba interrupted.

“I didn’t need to do what?”

“Ask me,” Aoba answered. “Like I said, I’m right here. You didn’t need to ask me to get the answers you want. You know very well why,” Aoba paused. Licking his lip with a twinkle in his eyes, he continued. “You have the skill to know anything you want, don’t you?”

Noiz took a step back, a cold chill running down his spine while Aoba made small jumping steps towards him and pulled him over by the cloak.

“Maybe I can answer you this one question, warlock, about why I’ve gained interest in you. You’re undeniably a good material that I would die hoping for but there’s another reason to why I kept you alive when I could’ve torn you apart, take your limbs, eyes, heart, and give them all to myself. You see…” he trailed, letting Noiz go then walking around him in circles before he squeezed Noiz on the chin, whispering into his face. “...not every day we get to meet someone so similar like us, as if we’re one but in two bodies. I saw that in you, Noiz, and I want to see how far is your limit before your mind and soul and body crumble under the pressure as you kneel by my feet…” His hands slid downwards, coming to rest on Noiz’s heart. “...begging for me to give you another life just so you could stay alive.”

“Like Hell I would do that,” Noiz gritted. Aoba’s words certainly had the weight to them, because they were doing things to Noiz, like holding him on the spot, unable to move, and unable to look away from Aoba’s penetrating gaze.

“Hahahaha! You say that now, but I know everything,  _ Noiz _ . Like you,” Aoba raised his free hand, wrapping it around Noiz’s neck with a soft grasp. “I can see one’s mind too.”

As if triggered by a panic button, Noiz pushed Aoba aggressively away. But Aoba didn’t budge. He merely stood there, grinning darkly at Noiz, as if admiring a broken toy.

“...How do you know?” Noiz breathed; he was panting, and he didn’t even know why. For all he knew, he barely moved, and he didn’t even use any of his skills for anything at all. It’s as if Aoba had created this invisible burden that was eating him up from the inside and there’s nothing he could do to get rid of it.

“Of what? Of how you can look into people’s head? How you lost your identity, your soul, your personality because of that?” Aoba described in a sing-song manner, with zero hint of him being serious at all.

“Don’t joke around with me, Aoba,” Noiz growled. “ _ What  _ are you?”

“You said it yourself, the villagers said it too,” Aoba sprinted towards Noiz then, clutching hard onto his shoulders and slamming him against the wall. A few books fell off the shelves, a few glass bottles on the window sill exploded. “I’m the mad man in the forest, I’m  _ Seragaki Aoba _ .”

He didn’t ignite it intentionally. His instinct had decided that this situation called for self-defense and before he knew it, his senses were erased, a white light enveloped both him and Aoba and everything was moving in such a rapid speed that one simple movement could easily tear him apart. The motion around him was so destructive he was unable to move, nor think. So he waited; he waited till the screaming was done, the wind stopped blowing, and the cold hands of Aoba had left his face that he opened his eyes, finding himself staring at a beach.

Instantly, he knew what happened. He’d done this before but never in such extent; he’d looked into people’s head but never too much, it’s always just a glimpse, or just a few seconds. But now, he was standing right in a place where he didn’t belong in, his soul transported into a dimension that was a forgotten time, and he was existing in a space which had been buried away and was perhaps even… forbidden.

His first thought was to get out of here as soon as possible. If he didn’t find a way to return to the timeline he existed in he’d be warped into a paradox and he’ll never be able to find his way back ever again. Frantic, he started running; his hearing was muted, the sea waves that were supposed to ring by his ear were non-existent. He can’t even hear his own footsteps. His five senses must have been distorted by the impact. The longer he was to spend his time here, the more dangerous it was for a mortal like himself.

This was a dimension he should never  _ ever _ intrude.

“Here.”

He stopped his footsteps, heartbeats soaring to great speed, and looked around. Colours started to smear the world, layer by layer, tint by tint. In the next second, he could hear the waves, even the wind; but he was more distracted by the voice he’d heard just now. 

Was there someone else but him here? Was he not alone? Was the person trapped here too?

He had no idea. This wasn’t a dimension he should be interfering with and he was dreading the worse with every passing moment.

Then, he saw it. In a distance, two shadows stood near the edge of the sea, waves lapping under their feet, damping their shoes. They looked like twins, both with wavy blue hair, and both facing each other like they’re exchanging conversations, holding hands.

All of a sudden, an alarm snapped in his head. This wasn’t a foreign dimension. This was someone else’s head. He didn’t fall into a loop nor a paradox: he succeeded.

This was  _ Aoba _ ’s memories.  _ Aoba _ ’s past.

“You said you’ll trust me with it,” one of the Aobas said.

“Yes, but…”

“You don’t back out now, it’s too late.”

“Are you sure this will work?”

“Yes!” one of the Aobas had grabbed onto the other’s shoulders, speaking excitedly. “If we follow the plan, we will live forever, we’ll be immortals!”

He hugged his twin at the end of the words; he sounded like he was about to cry.

“...Okay,” the quieter Aoba finally spoke. “I trust you.”

Then, as soon as the vision appeared, it disappeared. Noiz’s vision turned red. Screams from before echoed stridently in his ears, causing him to cover them. He tried hard to catch what was happening between the twins; he saw blood, and, in morbid terror, a heart.

_ A beating heart _ .

“Had fun in my head?”

When he came back to himself, he was sitting on the couch, with Aoba -- the present Aoba -- hunching by his side and giving out an expression that looked somewhat like a pout.

“See? I told you. You don’t need to ask me to know what you want to know,” Aoba’s lips curved into a smirk while Noiz regained his sense of time.

“That was…” Noiz started, trying to remember everything he’d seen despite his gruesome migraine. “That was… you?”

“Uhuh, or should I say… mes?” Aoba answered, tapping his feet gingerly, following the rhythm of his words.

“What do you mean? What did you do? What…”

“Shhh…” Aoba pressed a finger against Noiz’s lips. “This is the first time I see you acting like this, Noiz. Was it really scary? Scarier when you saw me breaking limbs and gouging out eyeballs?”

“...No,” and he was truthful about it. It wasn’t the gory type of scary. But it was just… the fact that something dark -- something  _ dangerous _ \-- was happening and Noiz had absolutely no idea what it was. It did nothing to help him know Aoba more.

“Great, I take that as you won’t be leaving anytime soon,” Aoba returned to his wall, acting as if nothing had happened.

While Noiz watched him, trying to calm down at the same time, his mind raced. Whatever that had happened to Aoba in the past, it was definitely twisted. It was wrong, abnormal; whatever word that could crush the balance of life.

He needed to know what happened to that heart now, and if it still existed in this world. Then, he’ll get to Aoba…

...he’ll have to get rid of Aoba.

 

* * *

 

[ **T I M E** ]

 

He hated to admit it but peeking into Aoba’s head had come in the form of great consequences. With his mental state being gravely affected, Noiz couldn’t bring himself to step out of the house, fearing that he might accidentally hurt someone if his instincts went berserk again. For a whole five days, he stayed in his own space, watched as glasses shattered by themselves and items disappearing all of a sudden. He couldn’t sleep; hypnotizing didn’t work anymore. Every so often, he found himself looking at images that weren’t his as he stared blankly into space, all out of his own conscious. He was very close to losing his own mind and it took a lot of self-restraint to stop himself from stepping on the wrong route throughout this healing process. He had absolutely no idea to why Aoba’s memories affected him to such great extent. It probably wasn’t something his conscious mind can understand -- not yet -- and he was confident that it was his instinctual reactions that were  giving him the sense of alarm, or even trying to protect his sanity.

By now, he was completely certain that he’d set foot into a territory that he shouldn’t meddle with in the first place and there’s probably no turning back anymore. It’s almost as if Aoba had cursed him in one way or another.

How long ago was that scene anyway? Aoba didn’t look very much different from how he looked like now but he’s dealing with an…  _ unknown being _ here and there’s no telling what Aoba could do to his own life. He wouldn’t say that he’s an expert when it came to messing around with time but he was, in fact, trained in that area, at least to a level that was enough for him to understand what interfering with time would mean for the mortals.

Every time he was on a crossed road, he’d find himself putting his own skill into testing, like refilling a glass of water he’d finished drinking just a moment ago, or rewinding time just so he could see the same bird sitting on his window sill before it flew off again. Time was relative, but it was also perilous. Getting caught in a time loop wasn’t a foreign concept, and getting lost in a time paradox, in a realm where the very concept of time never existed was a warning many warlocks had been forewarned. 

But what about Aoba? If Aoba said that they were alike, could Aoba tamper with time too? Did he attempt to challenge time?

His doubt was strengthened in a form of horrifying visual. Six days after he put a distance between himself and Aoba, he was once again found in front of the mad man’s house, barging in without knocking, just to see Aoba cutting a piece of meat off his arm.

“What the  _ hell _ are you doing?!” Noiz sprinted towards him, stopping him just in time when the blade was three inches sinking into his flesh.

“I’ve run out of meat,” Aoba pointed his chin at the boiling cauldron. “Don’t have time to go hunting now.”

“And you think it’s a good idea to put a piece of yourself into this insanity?” Noiz growled.

“Well, yes,” Aoba said without a second thought. “My experiment is everything to me. I’ll do everything  and anything for it. Besides, it’s only a matter of time before the flesh grows back, it’s no big deal.”

_ A matter of time… _

Clicking his tongue, Noiz waved a nimble hand gesture at the direction of Aoba’s wounded arm as Aoba watched in amusement while the flesh on his arm grew and returned his flesh to the original, unscarred state.

“Wow, you can control time too, huh?” Aoba gasped, wide-eyed.

“Don’t sound like you’re surprised. I’m sure you can do it too,” Noiz scowled.

“I can’t. If I can, I wouldn’t need to do all of these now,” Aoba said, spreading his arms wide.

That’s new. He thought Aoba was great with everything, like he could probably do everything Noiz could and better. But Aoba had a point, if he could manipulate time, it would indeed save him a lot of effort having to wait for whatever he’s cooking in the cauldron to brew. 

“...you serious?” Noiz asked, just in case.

“Indeed, I am,” Aoba nodded. “That’s a great skill, warlock, would love to learn that from you.”

“I won’t teach you,” Noiz rejected without thinking.

“Don’t be such a stingy man.”

“It’s not that. Meddling with time is bad business. Not everyone has the willpower to do so.”

“You’re saying you have,” Aoba gave him a suspicious glare.

“Yes, I do. Thanks to that, I’ve lost more than you can ever imagine.”

“I suppose so,” Aoba said casually, sounding like he’d dropped the topic. “I imagine it to be something like getting stuck in a black hole or never being able to die or probably even shortening your lifespan. Wow, that sucks.”

Noiz shrugged; he’s not entirely wrong, but he’s done explaining more to him. The lesser Aoba knew, the better. There’s no telling what this mad man would do.

“But you know? That mortal thing you have to go through: falling sick, fatigue, growing old, then dying… isn’t that annoying? Don’t you want to live forever?” Aoba spoke again when the silence spread.

“It’s the law of nature. Without deaths, we’d be facing overpopulation and Earth only has limited resources to satisfy everyone. It’s not something we should interfere with and it’s something we have learned to live with.”

Now he’s sounding like he’s talking to an alien. Great.

“Hmmm, that’s pathetic. It just feels like humans have decided to surrender to fate rather than finding for a solution to it,” Aoba criticized.

“We have no option,” Noiz emphasized. “There’s nothing we can do.”

“I can,” Aoba stopped everything he’s doing to look at Noiz. “I can build you a second body so your brain and heart can be transferred into a new body when you’re nearing your death.”

For a long while, Noiz merely stared at Aoba, letting what he said sink into him. 

“That’s it. That’s what you’re doing all this while,” he said under his breath, sounding very unlike himself. He thought he heard a second voice in his ears.

“That’s what you mean by being immortal. You’re…”

Aoba merely grinned at him without saying a word. Pieces of everything he’d gathered about Aoba started to come together. And it terrified him.

If he could reverse time to before when he’d met Aoba, he’d definitely do it.

“You’re building new bodies for yourself… so you can live forever.”

“You’re almost there, warlock, well done,” Aoba cheered, clapping his hands. “Now all you need to do is figure out the last part of the riddle and our game will come to an end.”

He wanted to quit. He would rather not touch the last piece of the puzzle. God knows what will happen to him if he did. There’s no way he could guarantee that he’d still remain sane if he figured out the truth.

Perhaps Aoba  _ did _ do something to him when he lured him to his house after all. He’d cursed a bond with him, and for all he knew, he might just be the next body Aoba had his eyes on -- just so Aoba could be…  _ him _ .

 


	4. The Grim Reaper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Grim Reaper is very much like him. Who knows? He might as well be a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, I'm finaaaaaaaally opening up a new plot device for this story, finaaaaaally it's going into the core of the plot. Sweats.
> 
> As usual, writing Aoba in this story has always been a great, great delight for me _(:3/L

Have you heard about the story of the Grim Reaper? He only comes out at night, creeping into your room, talks to you, acting like your friend, pretending that he knows your life better than you do. And then, before you know it, you will realize that he  _ does _ know it better, and all that you can do is listen to him, believing him, and treat him like a friend you never know you need. The Grim Reaper will tell you about living and death, he will tell you that all that you need in life is to work towards a meaningful death, that everything that you are doing now will eventually wither into nothingness when you die. You will believe him; because you know it’s true. 

And then, when you  _ really _ die, you will see the truth right in front of your very eyes: A truth that tells you that, at the very least, you won’t die in vain.

_ Because you will become part of something greater, something that can help you live in others _ .

Have you heard about the story of the Grim Reaper? It’s okay. There’s no need to fear him, for if you are to meet him, that only means you’re the Chosen One.

For what, you ask? 

.

..

…

It’s a secret.

* * *

 

 

“Ew, stop, stop, stop! Do you seriously believe in this kind of thing?” 

The man groused and rammed his beer jug on the table, splattering alcohol all over the place.

“Why not?!” the other man, who was sitting on the same table as him, wiped his mouth sloppily with the back of his hand.

“ _ Why not _ ?! This is nonsense! Grim Reaper? Don’t joke around with me. It’s nothing but urban legend! Does anyone ever see him before? For real?”

“Because those who saw won’t live to tell the tale!” the man refuted again, drowning a large gulp of beer down his throat.

“Hahahaha! Nonsense! Nonsense! Cut the crap and leave it to frighten the children. The only scary,  _ vivid _ living being in this area is that loony man in the forest.  _ He _ ’s the one we should be afraid of, not some, whatever Grim Reaper,” the man said in a gaudy voice, fist banging on the table all the while as he spoke.

“Ew, don’t speak about that man. He gives me goosebumps!” the other man shivered a tad. “Anyway, if this Grim Reaper is real, I hope he comes out and gets rid of that man already. Since none of us can do it, might as well put our hope in some messenger of death.”

“Yeah, he might as well do us this favor. Isn’t that maniac in favor of death too? Perfect for the Grim Reaper, isn’t it? They can be good friends, or great enemies.”

“Whatever it is, it’s none of our business. I want nothing to do with such mess,” the other man ended the conversation, finishing up the rest of his alcohol and calling out for a new jug.

“...Grim Reaper, huh?”

A man sat in the tenebrous corner of the pub, fingers crossed and supporting his chin as he tilted his head, smirking exquisitely. The two men were sitting in an opposite corner of where he was at but he’d captured every single word splendidly into his ears, as if he was sitting right beside them. He closed his eyes, whirred an unknown song, indulging mirthfully in the odor of sweat and liquor.

Hanging around in crowded spots like this, listening to all these insensible rumors was one of his hobbies besides dealing with corpses. These living people told him of things corpses couldn’t. But it wasn’t like corpses were utterly inutile either. While living people operated on free will, corpses operated on  _ his _ will. They’re easy to manipulate, they possessed no senses, and they were easy to delude. That’s why corpses were the most obedient materials. But living people, though… the way they distorted perception to suit their own creed was a spectacular talent of theirs that he’d taken a liking towards. Basing on just paltry hints, they were capable of creating an entirely new world from nothing, as if they were the victims themselves, as if they’d lived the life of the persons they brought into their conversations.

He released a long breath and leaned against the couch, still smirking. His golden orbs scanned through the place, searching. After a while, he stretched and stood, then walked out of the pub with footsteps so flimsy like he was stepping on air. No one reached out to him, let alone talked to him.

As if he was invisible, as he came and left as he pleased -- completely unnoticed.

 

* * *

“He was…fine… just an hour ago!” 

The weeping sound of a woman packed the space, followed by the sound of children calling out to their mother. Noiz scrutinized the house; spotless, simple, totally a house that was nothing but one that consisted of a lowborn family who was merely trying to survive to live in a weensy town.

“No weird behaviors at all?” he prompted, pulling onto his gloves as he swept a layer of wispy dust off the shelf. 

“N-No…” the woman sobbed. 

Noiz didn’t ask further. Whatever he needed to know, he’d gotten from the woman, the wife of the deceased, who was found falling to his death all of a sudden just an hour ago, when he was trimming the plants in the garden. If he’d portrayed any signs of weird behaviors, there’s no reason the wife wouldn’t tell him. On top of that, Noiz also found no evidence that they’d been in any strained relationship at all. The proof being how their children displayed no enmity when it came to talking about their parents. 

Everything happened all of a sudden. But what weirded him out was the missing flesh in different parts of the man’s body, as if they were shredded off right when he fell to his death. The cuts were sleek and clean, no blood, just… missing fleshes. 

It was clearly done by an expert slayer.

That’s why Noiz was being summoned to handle the case. There’s no way any normal person would have dealt with this. It’s either the work of a ghost, a ghoul, a demon, or something a normal person just couldn't have handled.

“How about interesting things?” Noiz changed the direction of his question. 

“Interesting…?” the woman looked up from his tear-soaked face, staring at Noiz with dreary gaze.

“Stories, incidents, someone he met, something he found,” Noiz aided.

“I hear no such thing from him. H-He… would’ve told me! He will--”

“G-Grim Reaper…”

Noiz turned around, finding for the source of the voice. It was one from the victim’s son. Hiding behind his mother’s back, he peeked at Noiz warily.

“Grim Reaper?” Noiz repeated. 

The boy nodded. 

“What Grim Reaper?” Noiz pushed, noticing that the child wasn’t about to continue his words.

“D-Dad said something about… meeting a Grim Reaper,” the boy stuttered, small fingers grasping tighter around his mother’s shirt.

“What are you talking about?” the mother shrieked. 

“It’s true, I swear! Dad told me about the Grim Reaper as bedtime stories!” the boy fought.

“What did he say about the Grim Reaper?” Noiz, however, remained as unruffled as ever, as he stressed on the new clue.

“He said he’s… a nice person.”

Noiz frowned. Grim Reaper? A nice person? This doesn’t add up to the pieces in his impression.

“And?” he pushed on.

“He said he’s… going to bring him a better life, bring him somewhere better,” the boy recollected.

“What nonsense are you talking about?! He didn’t tell me anything about this!” the woman cried out loud, wanting to wrench his son out from behind her so she could give him a better chiding. The little boy wrestled, shaking his head as he hollered, sounding like he was on the verge of breaking down.

“I didn’t lie, I didn’t lie! It’s really what dad told me!”

“Did he mention how this Grim Reaper look like?” Noiz asked again, completely ignoring the rumpus between the mother and the son.

“No… He only said, the Grim Reaper always smiles. When he touches him, he’s cold, like ice… But his voice is always sweet. He’s friendly!” the boy yelled at Noiz’s face.

“And he did he tell you when did he meet him?” Noiz continued.

“Sir, do you… Do you seriously believe in what he says? He’s just a child. That could be just a story! The Grim Reaper is an urban legend! It’s just a story to scare children!” the women retorted.

“Is your son scared now then?” Noiz returned with a nippy tone, his gaze equally unthawed like his voice.

“H-He’s…”

“Continue. Did he tell you when he met him?” Noiz brushed her off.

The boy nodded again. “Seven days ago.”

“Seven days…” Noiz supported his chin with a hand, a thin frown formed in between his eyebrows. He scanned around the house again, just to make sure that he didn’t miss out anything before he strode towards where the corpse lay, frigid and decaying.

Pulling his gloves off and replacing them with a new one, Noiz then bent towards the corpse, checking on the missing fleshes again. Feet, arms, chest, abdomen. Only the face was left untouched. Why? With a deeper frown, he nudged the eyelids open, wanting to check the eyeballs. 

His eyes brightened. 

Within the reflection of those eyes were ones that didn’t belong to his. Supposedly, despite already almost losing all of its lights, the eyes should reflect what the person was seeing now, which meant Noiz should be seeing his own reflection in those eyes. But instead, he saw nothing of that. All that he could see, however, was a letter.

“ _ A _ ”.

What does that mean? Did whatever that had killed this man left something for him? Or was that the last thing the man saw before he died? Noiz squinted, about to check if there’s something else that could serve as a hint to this riddle but to no avail. All that’s useful from the corpse were a swirl of grim, black hole, and the letter, bleeding in blood-red, as if it was graven onto the eyeball with a sharp material.

Releasing a heavy breath, Noiz stood again, removing his gloves at the same time.

Without saying anything, he left the house, once again, ignoring the woman’s ear-splitting shrieking, calling him useless and incompetent to his job.

* * *

 

 

The moment he opened the door, a weight slumped onto his back, complemented by a moist sensation trailing from his neck all the way up to his earlobe. Before he could rip himself off the assailant, a cold, playful voice furled right into his ear.

“I’ve missed you.”

Chills sprinted down his spine. Immediately shoving Aoba out of the way with utmost strength, Noiz faltered as he took a few steps back, his back colliding against the wall, almost causing a few bottles of cooked intestines to tumble off the shelves. Aoba laughed out loud, holding onto his stomach.

“Hahahaha! Look at that! The marvelous, formidable warlock. Getting all flustered by a lick!”

“ _ Aoba _ ,” Noiz growled, glaring at Aoba as he tidied up his robes. 

“Yes, Yes! I’m here,” Aoba raised his hand and hopped animatedly.

He had no energy for this. Ignoring him, Noiz toppled into a couch as he rubbed his thumbs against his temples.

“Aww, why do you look like that? Did I scare you? Don’t be afraid, it was just a joke. I mean, half of it was just a joke,” Aoba came slinking towards him. He laid his hands on each side of the couch, caging Noiz within.

“What half?” Noiz glowered.

“I  _ do _ missed you. That is true. It’s been how long? Sorry, can’t quite remember. You know me, I have horrible grasp towards what you humans call ‘time’,” Aoba said.

“As if you’re not human yourself,” Noiz groaned.

“At this point, do you really think I’m one?” Aoba’s smirk arched higher. Tilting Noiz’s face up with a lift of his chin, Aoba gazed keenly into Noiz’s eyes. “Beautiful.”

Noiz frowned.

“Not your eyes, but that reflection in them. Of course, your eyes are beautiful too, so does every other part of your body,” Aoba ended with a pesky lick on the tip of Noiz’s nose, causing Noiz to wince out loud.

“Get off me,” Noiz brushed him away. “I’m not in the mood to play around with you today.”

“Aww, that’s too bad then,” Aoba moved away, retreating to the back of his counter as he continued speaking. “I’ve always thought that the only reason you’re here is so that I can play with you.  _ Are you ready to play with me _ ?”

“Keep dreaming,” Noiz snarled.

“So if that’s not it, why are you here then?” Aoba asked, stirring something that smelled like pungent dead meats in the cauldron.

“Aren’t you an expert when it comes to death and corpses?” Noiz went straight into the point.

“I like to think I am,” Aoba said with a grin. 

“...What do you think about the Grim Reaper?” 

Aoba stopped in his motion. Looking up at Noiz, he chucked him a sneer.

“I think he’s a fantastic existence. I’d totally become good friends with him,” he said, unpretentious.

For a stretched silence, Noiz merely stared at him without saying anything. Then, he stood from his seat, walking right towards Aoba.

“You agree with what this being is doing? Whatever he’s doing?” he asked, coming face-to-face with Aoba.

“Why not? Like you said, he’s an expert of death, I’m an expert of corpses, don’t you think we’ll create something horrendously beautiful if we join hands? Ah…” Aoba paused, sniffing in the air with closed eyes before he shook his head. “Thinking about it excites me. A man who can control  _ death _ , that’d be so useful for my research. I don’t even need to lift a finger, he can take care of everything for me and I only need to work on the corpses.”

“You won’t,” Noiz snapped before Aoba could elaborate further. 

“Won’t what?” Aoba casted a sideway glance at his direction.

“...”

Without being able to answer Aoba, Noiz took a deep breath and strode towards the door.

“Leaving already? That’s fast,” Aoba called out to him, already returning to working on the item in the cauldron. “I wanted to let you try this fresh--.”

Noiz had slammed the door close without waiting for him to finish his words. Aoba could only smile.

“--meat,” he ended.

 

* * *

The night came murmuring sweet nothings, fondling skin until it stole the pink blushes and replaced it with blue. In the sky was the beauty of twinkling stars, the serene night allowing the measly heat of the day to leave unhampered. The only notion of luminance came from a full moon, an ice-cold silver ray of light blanketed the frosty, deserted street.

Light, jolly footsteps echoed in the midst of silence. A velvety hum can be heard, singing a song with an unknown name.

All of a sudden, it stopped. 

The owner of the voice -- a small, young girl -- squinted through the darkness, catching sight of a sullen shadow in the far end of the street. The shadow stirred, just ever so slightly, its footsteps non-existent as it came to stand in front of the girl.

“That’s a very lovely song,” it said. From beneath the cloak, the little girl can make out the speck of a grin, matched with a pair of alluring eyes, glinting into hers as if they were screening her from the inside out. There was no trace of malice that she could see from the shadow; its voice mellow and gentle, like a pacifying lullaby the little girl’s mother will sing for her before she slept.

“It’s my mother’s song!” she answered with a cheer. 

“Is that so? Your mother must be a very lovely lady then,” the shadow said. Something raised from the depth of its cloak, causing the girl to hitched a breath. But upon realizing that it’s the shadow’s hand, she relaxed and allowed it to snuggle graciously against the her hair. 

“She is!” the girl said gleefully. “She’s the loveliest woman in the world!”

“I see, so that’s why you are lovely too.” She could see a hearty beam, just a hint of it, from beneath the cloak. It made her want to pull the hood off, wanting to see the face of the person harboring in the dark.

“Since you showed me such a lovely song, I would like to give you something in return,” the shadow spoke slowly, soothingly, every word of it rang like a tune from an unknown lullaby.

“I-It’s okay! My mom said, we shouldn’t expect any returns from anyone if we genuinely want to help!” the little girl rejected.

The shadow tilted his head to one side. Even without the need to see the face concealed beneath the hood, the little girl can tell that it’s smirking.

“You are such a nice child…” he muttered, voice so low the little girl could barely catch it. “Let’s not call it a reward then. Maybe… a gift I would like to give you? As a friend?”

“Friend? Are we friends now?” the little girl’s eyes brightened.

“Are we not?” the shadow asked instead. “Do you not want to be my friend?”

“Of course not! I want to be your friend! We’re friends now! What do you want to show me?” the little girl frantically explained, rushing up to clasp the shadow on its hand. Its hand was cold, it had the little girl shivering at first contact. But before she could pull her hand back, the shadow had seized stoutly onto it.

“It’s just right down that corner. Not far. Don’t worry, I’ll definitely send you home before bed time.”

With a giggle, the little girl followed as the shadow guided her down the path, down the corner, all the while smiling, the ardor in his eyes now permeated of nothing but icy cold.

 

* * *

Seven days later, a thunderous shrill shattered the peace of the village.

The case befallen in a small house near the border of the village, where a mother and a daughter lived. When Noiz stepped into the house, the entire place was submerged in an intense scent of blood, having him to scrunch his nose at the smell. It’s something he smelled in Aoba’s house every so often but then again, all blood smelled the same -- the same rust-scent -- so there’s nothing to fret over. Thanks to that, though, he was totally expecting broken limbs scattering at different parts of the house, or a whole pool of blood the deeper he walked into the house. 

Just that -- there was none of those.

No broken limbs, not a single drop of blood in the crime scene.

Lying on the bed was a little girl, eyes closed in such a way that looked as if she was merely sleeping tranquilly. But a swift observation was more than enough to tell Noiz that this was no sleeping. Not only her face, her entire body was pale-white, like a piece of unblemished paper, without a sign of the usual sluice of blood one would normally see on a person’s flesh. With a sigh quelled in his throat, Noiz ambled towards the corpse and grazed its cheek with the tip of his finger.

Cold.

Not the usual cold like how a corpse would be. But it was icy-cold, so cold that it made the corpse feel like it’s not human, like it’s simply an object made out of human flesh and bones. He took a deep breath, bending now and started prodding on different parts of the body, trying to find a tinge of nerve. The moment he found one, his heart did a pounce.

There’s no blood gushing in the veins; as if the blood had all been drained out of the body.

“When did you find out about this?” he asked the mourning woman, who was kneeling by the bed. Damn, this is the second time he had to face a weeping woman now.

“T-This morning…” the woman, however, seemed to be more coherent than the one he met before.

“How do you know she’s… dead?” Noiz queried cautiously. Even when his emotions were sparse, he was still courteous enough to sympathize with others’ feelings.

The woman snuffled a little at the last of his words before she answered, “She’s usually up at this hour… I thought it was weird when she wasn’t.”

“So you checked on her?” Noiz followed.

The woman nodded. “She’s not breathing and she’s so… cold,” she ended by holding onto her daughter’s tiny hand. A quiet hitch of breath fled her lips. She looked like she was restraining herself from breaking down.

Noiz fell silent for a while, evaluating the situation.

“Was she acting weird?” he asked at long last. The woman shook her head.

“If she does, I’d be the first one to know.”

It’s the same series of questions he’d asked the other woman the last time. And if his hunch was right, then the next question he asked would confirm it.

“Did she meet anyone? Someone who’s friendly and in her words, nice.”

The woman looked up at him. “How do you…”

“Was it seven days ago?”

The woman’s eyes perked, her mouth opened slenderly. In the next second, she’d labored herself towards Noiz, clutching onto his robes as she wept,

“Do you know something? Do you know who harmed her? Please, please tell me if you know anything! I’m not seeking for revenge, I just want to know!”

Noiz took her hands off his robes gently. Patting her on the back of her hand, he assured,

“I have some ideas but I can’t be sure yet. Don’t worry, I’ll definitely let you know if I’ve found out who actually did this. For now, I advise you to focus on what’s going to happen after this.”

The woman calmed down at his words. Nodding at Noiz, she returned her attention to her daughter, sobbing silently as she swiped a few messy strands of her hair away from her forehead.

Turning away from the scene, Noiz left the room and walked out of the house, feeling a heavier weight in his heart as he roamed down the street.

 

* * *

“Oh! Isn’t this the glamorous, oh-so mighty warlock, Master Noiz?”

He clicked his tongue at the voice. In the next second, he heard footsteps from behind him, ever so airy, ever so rascally. He didn’t need to turn around to check who had been calling out to him when he felt an arm flinging over his shoulder, complied right away with a lick on his cheek.

“Hands off,” he said in a bitter voice.

“My, my, what’s the matter with our Master Noiz today? Someone bullied you?” Aoba joshed. And of course, he didn’t take his hand off.

Noiz grunted loudly. Aoba sniffed against his neck, burbling as he did.

“Such a strong smell of blood. Just came back from a crime scene?” he asked.

“Yes, and I don’t have-- can you stop doing that?!”

Aoba had lashed his tongue against Noiz’s neck when he was speaking, as if he wanted to savor the blood he caught on Noiz.

“Why do I have to stop? You smell so delicious it’s arousing me,” Aoba said in an ethereal tone and was about to lick Noiz again when Noiz knocked him away with aggressive strength.

“I don’t care if you’re aroused or not, take care of that yourself. I’m not in the mood to entertain you now,” Noiz hissed.

“That’s mean. The last time we met, you said you weren’t in a good mood too. I bet that someone who’s been perturbing you must be giving you a lot of headaches,” Aoba nodded as he spoke.

Noiz fell silent. Without any intention to dwell with Aoba any longer, he walked away. But Aoba only followed him intently on his heels, clearly wasn’t done with his business with him.

“Is it that Grim Reaper guy?” Aoba asked, hands crossed behind his head. 

When Noiz didn’t answer. Seeing that, Aoba smirked, as if he’d expected that reaction from the warlock. So he pressed on, as if Noiz’s response didn’t concern him the slightest.

“I’m jealous. How dare someone else distracts you more than I do? I’m going to find this person and make him my corpse.”

Noiz ceased in his tracks upon hearing that. Grinning deeper, Aoba perched an eyebrow at Noiz’s direction.

“Ho? Seems like someone is finally responding to me.”

“You can get him?” Noiz, however, urged a question that had nothing to do with what Aoba had just said.

“You should be asking  _ who _ can’t I get?” Aoba edged closer towards Noiz and dab a finger against his chin.

“...Even the Grim Reaper?” Noiz asked carefully, solemnity apparent in his gaze.

Aoba’s grin vanished.

“Listen,” his voice sunk into a small whisper. “If I want, I can get  _ anyone _ I want, dead or alive. Seems like you still have absolutely no idea of what I’m capable of.”

Noiz scrutinized the luster in Aoba’s eyes, found his own reflection, and looked away. Aoba burst out laughing.

“Aww, embarrassed already?”

Noiz snapped his head towards Aoba’s direction but before he could spell his retorts, Aoba interrupted him. 

“I can do it for you -- under one condition.”

Noiz swallowed down his throat. He’s feeling the same hunch on his guts again, the very same hunch that gave him a horrible feeling.

“Drop by my place tonight. I’m thinking of making soup.”

“...Soup?” Noiz breathed, feeling a bit out of breath.

“Uhuh,” Aoba nodded, taking the lead to walk in front of them before he looked over his shoulder. “Of course, it’s not just  _ any _ soup. I have some terrific ingredient in it today. Something I found just recently. Something that will taste better than those blood scent on you.”

Noiz hesitated for a while. But just for a while. Taking another tenacious breath, he caught up to Aoba in his stride.

“And then we’ll talk business.”

“Yup, yup, and then we’ll talk business. Open your mind, Master Noiz, it’s not good suffocating yourself so much like that -- you might lose sight of what really is important to you.”

Noiz pretended he didn’t hear Aoba’s last sentence. Who was him to tell him that he should focus on what’s important anyway? Definitely not a guy who thought of the living as a secondary priority as compared to the death.

 

* * *

As it turned out, it was an utter catastrophic for Noiz to trust Aoba that he was able to capture this Grim Reaper for him. Aoba was definitely capable of doing so without a doubt, Noiz just had a hunch that he could. But it all came down to if he would  _ want _ to do it or not and having to deal with that was a much bigger problem than having to deal with the Grim Reaper himself. As of now, Noiz didn’t have any bait to lure him into putting in extra effort that not only will not get more corpses for him, but, in his own words, “ _ If I catch this Grim Reaper that means I would have one less helping hand to help me kill my victims? _ ” so before he realized it, Aoba had overturned his argument against him, causing him to smash the bowl of Aoba’s so-called “soup” ruthlessly on the table and left without another word.

For the rest of the night, all that he could feel on his tongue was the aftertaste of rust. Yeah right about feeding him something that’d taste better than anything else he’d made. Noiz was pretty convinced that Aoba had just fed him a bowl of fresh blood.

But he didn’t have too much time to contemplate his next step either. Because right before he could even figure out who exactly this Grim Reaper was, it had taken one step before him, hunting down its next victim.

This time: a lady.

Unlike the previous times, there were no ladies crying over a corpse when Noiz found himself in the midst of the crime scene. The lady  _ was _ the corpse herself. And she must be the most gruesome corpse Noiz had seen out of the three.

She was found at the edge of the forest, when Noiz was about to head to Aoba’s place to force his way on Aoba to make him help him out, just to see Aoba examining the corpse, nodding every so often as if he was thrusting his own findings into his head.

“Noiz! Your best friend’s at it again!” he’d waved merrily at Noiz when Noiz staggered in his steps, finally realizing what situation he’d landed himself in.

He rushed towards the corpse in an instance.

“This guy is nastier than me. What kind of person peels the skin off such a beautiful lady?” Aoba opined by a side. Noiz had pulled him out of the way when he came. Standing with crossed arms, Aoba’s ever so diabolical smirk stagnated on his lips. As he’d delineated, the corpse lacked of skin; all that was left on her body was mutilated flesh with limbs still finely attached.

“When… did you find this?” Noiz asked through weary voice, as if every word he said sucked some of his energy out of him.

“Just before you came,” Aoba said absentmindedly; he clearly wasn’t concerned about the severity of the situation.

Noiz’s fingers trembled a tad. Of course he knew how Aoba was as a person. He’d dealt with blood and flesh first-hand; this kind of view was nothing but the usual.

It drew a deep frown on Noiz’s face. He bit his lower lip, closing his eyes to focus.

“So, what do you plan to do, Master Noiz?” Aoba’s provocative voice chimed in his ear, crushing his focus into nothingness. Noiz turned around to meet his gaze.

“I need to take down the Grim Reaper before it kills more people,” Noiz said, every one of his word weighed of iron.

Aoba pulled a deeper smirk. “Alone?”

Noiz didn’t say anything then. Because he knew Aoba had seen through him at this very moment. There’s no need to say anything. Indeed, he’d wanted to ask Aoba again when he came here himself. But he wasn’t sure now if Aoba should be involved. He didn’t seem at all eager with the chore from the beginning; besides, this might all just be another play thing for him and who knows what will happen if Noiz really confide this task to him? 

Who knows if he’d join hands with the Grim Reaper?

Can he trust him?

His head chattered with a myriad of ruminations. He supported his forehead with a hand and took in a deep breath. The scent of rust flocked into his nose, besmirching his head in a sea of red.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke,

“Aoba, be honest with me. Do you have anything to do with this?”

Aoba merely smirked. Shaking his head, he strolled circles around Noiz, whistling.

“Are you seriously asking me that? Don’t you already know the answer yourself?”

He came to a stop by the corpse’s side. Flicking a smudge of blood with his finger, he brought the warm liquid to his mouth, licking it clean.

“Every death is my concern, every corpse is my belonging,” he whispered in riddles. “Am I related to this or am I not? What do you think?”

Noiz clicked his tongue. He knew what Aoba meant. No matter what, Aoba  _ was _ related to this. No matter if he was involved directly or not, Aoba was always connected with death, with all the gruesome happenings in town. Even if Aoba wasn’t a murderer for every deaths, he’d always be the person many accused of and even he himself never bothered to cleanse his rotten reputation.

It’s not like he minded anyway. Even if Noiz was to say that he was the one who’d killed all those people, he’d probably admit in a heartbeat.

Just because it was fun.

“Noiz, all you need to do -- is ask,” Aoba had crept up to him when Noiz was analyzing the situation. “Ask if you dare and you will get what you want.”

The last of his sentence slumped into a steamy murmur, he’d have his head shored against Noiz’s shoulder, his lips, still with the blood of the corpse, inching dangerously close towards Noiz’s ear.

Noiz brushed him away. Giving the corpse another look, he breathed,

“Go back. I’ll see you later.”

“That’s what you said!” Aoba responded delightfully, a reaction that’s a dramatic contrast with how he was behaving. As he hopped his way back into the depth of the forest, Noiz’s cold gaze remained on his back, until his shadow vanished in the dark.

 

* * *

The next time he walked on the familiar path leading towards Aoba’s house, it’s already well past midnight. The light of the day had long since waned and swelled to nothing, the air cooler and damper than it had been. This path had always been gloomful and misty for as long as Noiz remembered it to be. But he was never once intimidated by it. The only thing, or rather, person, that had always crept out the villagers was Aoba. And by now, Noiz had come to know Aoba enough to let himself be feared of his presence.

Yet, for some reason, the rustling of the leaves and the whispers of the breeze sounded stronger than usual today, having Noiz to wrench his cloak tighter around his body, putting himself in a defensive stance all the while as he walked. 

It was only a few more steps to Aoba’s house when he heard it -- the sound of rattling bushes, as if someone was hiding in it. He halted in his steps, looking over his shoulder. Nothing. Nothing but darkness and mist. Grasping hard on his staff, he turned around, scrutinizing.

Then, he heard it again. This time, loud and clear, from behind him. When he turned around, a cloaked shadow was already standing right in front of him, their distance so close it was almost breathing into Noiz’s face. Noiz felt chills running down his spine. He didn’t sense the figure at all, as if it’d just appeared from thin air. Now that he was caught off guard, the nerves in his body froze. All that he could do was glaring penetratingly into the dark hole in front of him, hoping that he was piercing his gaze into the figure’s eyes, wherever they were. 

From beneath the limited light source that was from the moon, he could barely see a face, just a small smirk from underneath the cloak.

Noiz went into an attacking stance at once, as if expecting the thing to charge right at him in the next second.

But all the person did was standing rooted on the spot, staring at him from under his hood.

“Grim Reaper…” Noiz blurted under his breath. 

The Grim Reaper’s grin widened. Taking just one step towards Noiz, he opened his mouth. A placid, stale tone escaped his lips.

“Master Noiz.”

It wasn’t a voice he recognized, definitely not someone he knew. For some reason, the weight on his heart eased. 

“You know me?” he asked through abrasive voice.

“Of course I do,” the voice was one of unruffled and docile, even subdued. “I’ve been admiring you for a long time.”

A gush of disgust plunged towards Noiz’s thorat upon hearing his words.

“Unfortunately, we can’t be friends,” Noiz raised a palm, summoning what seemed to be a torrent of green energy, causing his surrounding to be shrouded in a tornado, the impact enough to knock a person off a feet. The Grim Reaper, however, stood steadily, completely unaffected by the gust.

“I’m aware,” he said, still smirking. 

“I’ll have to annihilate you,” Noiz said, voice compulsive.

“I’m aware of that too,” the Grim Reaper tipped his head a little.

“Why do you kill those people?” Noiz asked, changing the conversation into a different direction as the gust around them became stronger with every passing minute.

“It’s for a creation,” the Grim Reaper responded sluggishly.

“Creation?” Well, ain’t this familiar?

“Do you… Master Noiz, want to live after you die?” 

He didn’t like where this conversation was going. The longer he confronted the Grim Reaper, the worse his hunch became. 

“No,” Noiz answered acutely.

“What a pity. As I thought, you’re different from most humans.”

No longer have any patience to listen to what he had to say, Noiz crushed his stretched hand into a fist. The gale around them immediately sent a ravaging impact towards the direction of the Grim Reaper. When the dust cleared, Noiz’s eyes brightened. The shadow beneath the mist had disappeared. He hastily looked around, cold sweat forming all over him.

“Flesh, blood, skin; everything that makes a human -- human,” a voice echoed in his ears, as if it was speaking in his head. “But no. No, no, no. Those are not the most important. What’s more important is…”

All of a sudden, all sounds around him muted, as if time had stalled all of a sudden. When he blinked, the Grim Reaper was standing right in front of him again, his hand fondling him on the cheek, the gesture so tantalizing as if it was cherishing something precious. Now, with less mist in between them, Noiz could finally catch sight of the Grim Reaper’s eyes -- it was bright golden, cold, emotionless, and reflected of…  _ nothing _ .

“What’s more important is…” the Grim Reaper whispered heatedly, his words reverberating by Noiz’s ears. The man’s fingers were ice-cold, as if no heat was present on his flesh, as if he bore no blood. “...is this.”

The hand on his face sagged downwards, pressing against Noiz’s chest, where the heart was. 

_ Thump, thump. _

He could hear his own heartbeats in his ears, thriving faster and faster the longer the Grim Reaper pushed his palm against his chest.

“Hmm…” the Grim Reaper droned contentedly as Noiz closed his eyes. “As I thought, this is a beautiful heart. It’ll make the perfect piece to complete my creation.” 

Bending down a tad, the Grim Reaper now leaned his ear against Noiz’s chest.

“Hmm…” he hummed again. “Interesting, there’s something else.” 

Noiz no longer intended to listen to what he had to say. If only he could find something,  _ anything _ , that can help him move again…

The Grim Reaper straightened himself up.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I haven’t introduced myself, have I? I’m Death. Nice to finally meet you, Master Noiz. I have nothing to hide. All that I yearn to know is life. But I have no idea how the living works. That’s the problem. But this,” he pointed a finger against Noiz’s heart. “This will give me all the answers I need.”

With a sinister smirk, the figure started pushing his finger deeper against Noiz’s chest, so hard Noiz felt as if it was about to plunge right through his chest.

Then.

“How rude. Who gave you permission to lay your hands on my belonging?”

The figure’s motion halted. The voice came as quick as it went, like an echo, or like an illusion. Looking around, the grin disappeared from the Grim Reaper’s face, his eyes now reflected of solemnity.

“Weird. No one can intrude this dimension ever. Unless it’s…”

In the next second, a pair of hands had come wrapping around Noiz’s body from behind, a chin slouched against his shoulder.

“Where are you looking at? I’m right here.”

Aoba stood behind Noiz, still wearing his usual satanic smirk as he narrowed his eyes at the Grim Reaper’s direction.

“Why, isn’t this the Grim Reaper himself?” the grin returned to the figure’s face. “What brings you here into the woods, in front of humans, may I ask?”

“Oh my, my bad. I didn’t know I need your permission to appear wherever I want.”

After throwing those words at him, Aoba paced out of the shadows and came to stand right in front of Noiz, putting himself in between the warlock and the figure.

If Noiz’s eyes weren’t playing tricks at him, he was certain he saw a colder shade in Aoba’s eyes when he walked past him, something he’d never seen before for as long as he knew Aoba.

“That guts of yours is admirable,” Aoba humiliated.

“What is this about, I wonder?” the person before him responded, sounding as insouciant as ever.

“To lay hands on  _ my _ possession,” Aoba’s voice turned a tone deeper. Noiz could no longer tell if he’s smiling; he could not see Aoba’s expression, he could only speculate his mood from his voice.

And now, he sounded like he’s angered. 

This had never happened before.

“What makes--”

“He’s  _ mine _ ,” Aoba was almost growling at this point. Cold ran through every single nerve in Noiz’s body; he trembled.

Before anyone can react, Aoba had started laughing; a cold laugh that threatened to split the sky in half. Everyone was taken by surprise, no one dared to move an inch. Once he was done laughing, the chilliness returned to Aoba’s tone, as if that laughter from before wasn’t him.

“There’s only one way to punish someone who dares to touch my possession,” he spoke in a tone so flat and emotionless and so quiet it’s like he’s whispering to himself.

The next thing happened so swiftly Noiz didn’t even get the chance to blink. Before he knew it, the figure was torn into pieces by something he couldn’t see, the ripped pieces so tiny they faded with the wind, vanishing and became one with air. No screams, just the sounds of flesh being torn apart, bones being crushed into dust, and flowing gushes of blood surging and flowing to cover the green around them.

All that’s left after the horrifying massacre was a bloodpool. 

For a long time, none of them spoke. Standing in the pool of blood, the only sound around them was the  _ drip, drip _ sound of blood dripping from the tips of Aoba’s fingers and his hair. Noiz regained his ability to move not long after but he didn’t realize it himself, having too petrified with the scene in front of him. 

The scent of blood continued to sink into his veins, the silence between them suffocating.

“Aoba,” Noiz called out at long last. Aoba shuddered a tad. He turned around, meeting eyes with Noiz. The frosty tint Noiz caught earlier had disappeared; what he was seeing now was the usual gleam in golden orbs, alongside his own reflection.

Aoba wasn’t smiling like he usually did when he turned to look at Noiz; instead, his emotion was one of cold, like he was staring at an enemy. Before Noiz could say anything, Aoba had walked towards him, coming to stand right in front of Noiz, then pressing his palm against Noiz’s chest the way the Grim Reaper did earlier.

“Mine,” he muttered under his breath, tone heavy.

“Aoba,” Noiz called out again. His fingers shivered a tad, still trying to retrieve their ability to move.

Aoba closed his eyes, his breathing heavy. The next time he opened his eyes, he tilted his head, meeting eyes with Noiz’s lime-green pair of orbs. A pair of hands rose to cup both sides of Noiz’s face as Aoba leaned closer, so close that the tips of their noses touched.

“You’re mine,” Aoba repeated with a smirk. Noiz swallowed down his throat. 

The next thing he did was totally out of raw instinct. He didn’t know who started it first but before he knew it, his hands were holding onto Aoba’s waist, their lips pressed violently against each other as tongues rolled into each other’s mouth as if they’d known what to do all by themselves.

The air smelled of blood, they’re drenched in blood from head to toe, even their kiss tasted like blood.

But that’s fine. 

Nothing really mattered anymore. Even the blood rain that fell upon them right when the moment their kiss touched didn’t matter. 

Even if they became part of the bloodpool -- that’s fine too.

 


End file.
